


The Persistence of Memory

by hotchoco195



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Brain Damage, Canon - Comics, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Old Married Couple, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Retcon, Spies & Secret Agents, There I Fixed It, it's not Bucky & Nat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:23:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After SHIELD, Steve's looking for Bucky. Bucky finds him first. But it's Natasha who gets the biggest surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The problem with no SHIELD was no pay check. Steve’s old apartment was currently shot full of holes and crashing on Sam’s couch wasn’t great. Living together, working together...as much as Steve liked having someone around to watch his back, he still needed his own space. The first concern was what does Captain America look for in a job? He’d spent his whole life as a soldier, but re-enlisting seemed a bit unfair given his physiological advantages. He wasn’t interested in joining the CIA or a SWAT team or basically anything that involved a bureaucratic hierarchy and secrets. He didn’t think customer service would end very well given how recognisable he was, and he didn’t know his way around a normal non-AI computer well enough for an office job.

In the back of his mind, he thought of Tony. Tony who’d hated SHIELD and would probably hire him on the spot just for bringing them down. Tony who had more money than he knew what to do with, and probably wouldn’t care if he stayed in Washington looking for Bucky, and who might actually be able to help him search.

He didn’t ask Tony.

It didn’t stop Pepper asking him.

Steve smiled as he opened the door of the shitty motel room he was renting, feeling a little embarrassed he was in ratty workout pants when he saw Pepper’s elegant suit. She didn’t seem to mind though, eyes raking over his bare torso with an appreciative smile.

“Hi Steve.”

“Miss Potts. This is a surprise.”

“I’ve been called to address yet another of the many, many hearings about SHIELD, specifically our involvement. Since I was down here anyway, thought I’d check in and see how you are. May I come in?”

“Of course, please.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” she walked over to the window, “I got your address from Maria Hill.”

“How is she?”

“Good, good, settling well into the company. Tony and I were concerned about how you were doing, actually.”

He shrugged. “Doctors said I’m all good.”

“I didn’t mean your injuries.” She cast a pointed look at their surroundings.

“I’m looking for something better. Just uh, finding my feet I guess.”

“You know Tony-”

“I don’t want Tony’s charity, thanks all the same. I can handle this.”

“Steve,” Pepper said softly, no pity in her tone, “Please. It’s the least we can do. Whether you realised it or not at the time, those HYDRA guns were pointed right at him.”

“Honestly, he doesn’t owe me anything.”

“But I do. Without you I would have lost him. Please take the money, Steve. For me?”

He sighed. How could he say no to a lady, especially one looking at him like that?

 

“Wow,” Nat smirked as they crossed the living room, “Nice house, Rogers.”

“Tony and Pepper bought it. I told them it was too much but they can be pretty pushy about things.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I remember.” She turned on the spot, taking it in.

It was too much and Steve knew it, but after he’d insisted the amount they wanted to give him was positively obscene, he’d haggled Pepper down to $500,000 and a house. They had not specified what type of house. He should have realised that was a mistake.

Firstly, it was set in its own Stark-secured grounds. And Tony meant secure – Steve had been assured the system could even take down flying projectiles and missiles, and couldn’t be hacked. Secondly, the house was huge; only one storey but sprawling out into two distinct wings with a ridiculously long lap pool leading down from the back courtyard. They’d let him furnish it but the finishes were all dark wood and marble flooring, and carpet so plush his toes sank almost all the way in.

“Maybe I should ask for a place, huh? Stark owes me a few favours.”

“He’d probably jump at the chance to do more house-hunting.”

“Nah, not my style. I like to keep it low-key, you know?”

He did. He shared the sentiment.

“So what are you doing back? I thought you said your new cover might take awhile.”

“I’m still tossing ideas around. Thought I’d stop by and see my favourite captain, make sure no one’s tried to assassinate you yet.”

She threw him a look that he interpreted to mean Bucky, and Steve shook his head. “Nothing so far. You?”

She scoffed. “Please. After the information about me hit the web? Nobody’s that stupid.”

“Do you want something to drink? I don’t have alcohol but there’s tea, coffee, probably some kind of juice-”

“I’m good.” She sat, resting her elbows on the back of the great big squishy couch.

Steve sat at the other end, leaning against the arm as he watched her. She looked a bit less stressed but it was hard to tell.

“Have you seen Clint?”

Natasha smiled wryly. “I did. He wasn’t too happy about me dumping his personal history online but he got over it. I think Tony’s redactions helped.”

“Yeah.” He hadn’t really cared about everyone seeing his files; there was nothing in them the world didn’t already know. Tony was the same. But for the spies and Bruce he could imagine it would have been pretty uncomfortable.

“How’s your search going?” she carefully looked away.

He sighed. “No sign of him. But you said that at the hospital, right? He’s a ghost. Buck’s spent over half a century drifting, keeping himself out of sight.”

“It’s different this time,” she said, “Now he knows. Now he doesn’t have HYDRA wiping his mind or whatever they were doing to him.”

“I’m not sure how much he remembers. And even if he does, he might not want to see me.”

“He will.”

“You can’t know that. After all the stuff they made him do, maybe he’ll think I want nothing to do with him.”

“Bucky and you were practically brothers. You risked your life to save him on that helicarrier. He should know you don’t hold anything against him.”

Steve gave a small grin. “Well Buck isn’t always the brightest.”

She smiled back. “I’m gonna tell him you said that when you find him.”

He sighed. Finding Bucky was turning out to be harder than he’d hoped. Tony had found one snippet of footage from just after Steve fell in the river. It was blurry, the person moving too fast, and wearing a long coat that hid his arms (metal or otherwise) but it looked like Bucky. He was heading west, eyes down and ignoring the sound of explosions in the distance – unlike everyone else on the street.

There was no follow-up, no next scene. Bucky just wandered out of frame and never reappeared. There was nothing else to go on either, no police reports or intel from other agencies. He’d just vanished. Steve didn’t doubt the man could take care of himself and find what he needed, but he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt, and he didn’t want Bucky wandering around alone if he was disoriented and struggling to figure out who he was.

“If I find him, you can tell him anything you like.”

She shuffled closer and slung an arm around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “He’ll show up.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’re too good a guy to stay away from.”

*****

Steve was heading for the shower after his morning workout when the house alarms started going off with a dull whoop. He threw his towel over his shoulder and jogged to the nearest access panel, a schematic of the grounds appearing with a red dot halfway down the south wall.

“Visual?” he asked.

The view switched to the closest CCTV camera. A figure in a black hoodie and jeans was scaling the wall, his head tucked against his chest. He looked unarmed.

“Thermal scan.” Steve’s heart felt like it was in his throat.

The camera filter changed and the next second the picture changed to a strange mesh of colours. The man’s torso and head showed up as oranges and reds but his left arm was very, very blue.

“Cease security measures but stay on alert.”

He dropped his towel and ran to the side door, sliding it open with a bang. Steve took off across the grass, crossing the five or six hundred feet to the edge of the garden. He reached the area just before the wall as Bucky crested the top, the two of them freezing. The blond took a shuddery breath, slowly raising his hands.

“Hey Buck.”

The other man didn’t respond, but he didn’t move either. Steve took that as a good sign.

“Do you wanna come inside and talk?”

He tilted his head and considered the captain for a moment before swinging his leg over the wall and dropping to the ground, landing like a cat. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

It was hard to keep from glancing over every few steps as they made their way back to the house. Part of it was Steve’s own instincts not to put too much faith in a guy who had recently tried to kill him, and part was complete disbelief that the two of them were together again. When they reached the door he entered first as a show of goodwill, watching Bucky take it all in.

“You’ve done well for yourself, kid.”

Steve smiled at the familiar nickname. “I didn’t do anything, actually. A friend gave it to me after my abrupt resignation. Without him, I’d still be scratchin’ my ass in some sleazy motel room.”

“He sounds like a swell guy.”

“He’s alright once you get to know him. Do you want anything? Drink, snacks?”

“I’m fine.” He said, but he was still scanning the room with a sort of lost and wary expression.

“How ‘bout we sit down and you can tell me what you came to say?”

Bucky nodded and Steve moved to the couch, arranging himself more casually than he felt. The brunette watched him for a moment then sat as far away as possible, on the actual back with his feet on the cushions, tensed to run if he had to.

Steve had a million questions and concerns but he stamped it all down. Bucky was skittish, unstable. He needed to get there in his own time. They sat in silence for what felt like an hour but was probably only fifteen minutes, Bucky clasped and unclasping his hands in front of him.

“I went to the Smithsonian.”

“Oh?” Steve kept his voice light, “They got some cool stuff. Planes I remember from the war.”

“They have a whole exhibit on you.”

 

He looked away, blushing. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t have anything to do with that – it’s been there for decades apparently.”

“I saw...” Bucky bit his lip, “I saw pictures. Of me. Of us together. The display said we grew up in the same neighbourhood.”

“Yeah, we did,” Steve leaned forward, “We were best pals. You saved my scrawny neck a dozen times.”

Bucky nodded, as if confirming what he’d read. Steve cleared his throat.

“Did you see what else it said?”

His voice changed, turning hard and flat like he was giving a report. “Died in combat. Fell from a train in Germany while attempting to stop a HYDRA shipment. Body never found.”

“Yeah. Except apparently you were.”

Bucky looked down and Steve decided to risk it.

“Do you remember any of it?”

He was quiet, and when he did answer it was more of a mumble. “Flashes. Moments from being young. Pain. Doctors. It’s hard...”

“That’s okay.”

“I remembered you.” He looked up.

Steve had to fight down the panic at seeing those pale eyes looking to him for help after so many nightmares about the same expression as Bucky fell. “Yeah. Those HYDRA techs need to work on their machines. The process doesn’t seem to stick.”

“I don’t really know what they asked me to do,” he said, “It’s been so many years, and they just kept wiping me...it’s like all this shit in my head overlaps.”

“Hey, that’s okay. You’re probably better off not knowing. None of it was you really, just what they told you to be.”

Bucky glanced around again and Steve wondered how long it was going to take him to stop twitching in his own skin.

“Is it okay...I mean, I don’t really know anyone else – I still don’t really know you, but-”

“You should stay here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wanna help, any way I can.”

Bucky blinked. “I’m not sure I deserve it. I did try to kill you.”

“When we were kids you used to pin me every time we tussled and I forgave ya. Don’t see how it’s different now.”

The other man looked overwhelmed, possibly scanning his mind for any memories of said tussling. Steve stood.

“Come on, when was the last time you slept? Or took a shower, for that matter.”

“Awhile.”

“I’ll show you the guest room and you can get yourself feeling like a person again, and then maybe later we can talk some more.”

Bucky nodded, but he followed Steve to the hall without being asked, and he walked beside him without looking worried. It was a start.

 

Steve left Bucky to clean up and called Sam to tell him the search was over. The ex-soldier asked if he could help but Steve was pretty sure the less people around, the better Bucky would be. He spent the rest of the afternoon on the treadmill in the gym, letting his muscles run out the tension his mind couldn’t escape. He had Bucky back – maybe not the exact thing, but they’d get there, and after so long thinking he was gone the relief was too much for Steve to wrap his head around.

It was getting dark before he noticed the time, his legs complaining slightly about the exertion. Steve headed for his second attempted shower of the day and paused to check on Bucky. He eased the bedroom door open silently, peering in through the smallest possible gap. The brunette was asleep in the singlet Steve had given him, looking much smaller with his hair mussed on the pillow. His metal arm was on top of the covers, maybe to stop it chafing his skin. Steve marvelled again at the beauty of it, knowing what it could do. His eyes shifted over the sleek curves and stopped on the red star. Something had scraped most of it off, the silver covered in scratches. He backed away very carefully, closing the door again before he continued down the hall.

When he was clean , he decided to start dinner. Bucky had always been a huge fan of steak and he hoped that was still true, taking a couple out of the freezer and putting them out to defrost while he searched his pantry for vegetables. He was peeling potatoes when Bucky entered, his hoodie switched out for one of Steve’s.

“Hey. Hope you’re hungry.”

“Sure.”

“Did you sleep?”

He nodded and Steve gestured to a seat at the counter. “Make yourself comfortable, if you want.”

The brunette acted like being asked what he wanted was a foreign concept, but he sat and watched as Steve started dicing onions.

“I had a dream about you.”

“Yeah? A good one?”

“You were flying through all this fire. I thought you were going to fall but you made it to the other side – just.”

Steve clenched his jaw at the memory and didn’t comment.

“Did that really happen?”

He glanced up. “Yeah. It was in the base where I found you and the other prisoners.”

“And you made it.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“It probably wouldn’t have killed you anyway.” Bucky muttered.

Steve set down his knife and took a huge breath, loud enough that the other man frowned.

“Sorry. Did I say something?”

“I wanted to go back for you, Buck. I wanted to search until I dropped, but we were already moving on to the main base and there was no way through the mountain passes. Now I wish I’d told everyone to fuck off and gone by myself. Maybe I could have found you first, stopped HYDRA doing all this shit-”

“Don’t,” he shook his head, “It’s too late now. You thought I was dead and you didn’t have time to waste looking for a corpse. I get it.”

“I should have realised what Zola had done.”

“How could you know? We didn’t exactly get a chance to ask him and I was out of it when he was doing the actual experimenting.”

“After all the interest in Erskine, I should have guessed.”

“You’re not a fuckin’ mind reader, Steve.”

He smiled, then burst out laughing. It was sincere at first before turning a touch hysterical, and if anything Bucky looked more concerned.

“What?”

“Nothin’. It’s just been a really long time since I’ve heard you say my name.”

*****

Steve kept it as easy and calm as he could for a couple of days. He made sure Bucky ate three square meals and went to bed at a decent time, though he was pretty sure the other man wasn’t sleeping much anyway. They worked their way through Steve’s list of stuff to catch up on, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. Sometimes a show or movie would remind Bucky of a long-buried memory; sometimes he remembered spontaneously, asking Steve about snippets of dreams or vague feelings. As far as Steve could tell he wasn’t getting the information back in chunks or specific time periods, which meant it might take years for Bucky to have all his old memories intact and chronological order.

He wanted to take his friend to the hospital to get checked out. They didn’t know exactly what modifications Zola had made to his body, although it was pretty clearly some variation of the super serum, and Bucky probably needed some brain scans too. Maybe if they got him checked out they could speed up his recovery. But Steve didn’t suggest it because he knew the last thing Bucky wanted was more doctors messing with him. Instead they ate popcorn and laughed at stupid sitcoms and spent hours in the gym. The exercise seemed to clear Bucky’s head as successfully as it did Steve’s. Occasionally the blond wondered about offering to spar with him, but that seemed like a really good way to set off some kind of anxiety attack.

They were watching the third Star Wars when Steve looked over at the threadbare t-shirt and tracksuit pants he was wearing and winced.

“We should get you some new clothes.”

Bucky looked up, eyes slightly wide and uncertain. “Clothes?”

“Yeah. So you don’t have to keep wearing my old workout gear.”

“I don’t mind, really.”

“It might be good for you to get out of th-”

“No.” His lips slammed shut on the word, eyes on the screen.

“Okay, we don’t have to go anywhere. We can order stuff online and get it delivered.”

He huffed a laugh. “The wonders of modern technology, huh?”

“Why not? It’s convenient.” Steve shrugged.

Bucky shook his head. “I wouldn’t feel right letting you pay for me.”

“Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

He arched a brow at Steve and the blond snorted angrily.

“You think I give a shit about money? We’ve survived on much less, Buck, and I’m not exactly struggling now. We used to live out of each other’s pockets and hey, maybe we didn’t like it but we didn’t stress about repaying it.”

He crammed more popcorn in his mouth and glared at the TV, trying to be patient. Bucky probably didn’t even remember those days yet. Steve would feel the same if the situation was reversed – hadn’t he tried to reject Tony’s almost identical offer?

“You’re genuinely angry, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, cos you’re genuinely an idiot.”

Bucky laughed. “You always did have a temper when you thought someone had their head screwed on wrong.”

Steve paused, hand half in the bowl. “Yeah.  Guess I never grew out of it.”

They watched the rest of the movie quietly, and somewhere around the credits the brunette sighed. “Fine. You can buy me some clothes.”

“Cool.”

“And...I was thinking I want to cut my hair.”

He looked up. “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded, running a hand over the stubble on his neck. “Yeah. It’s annoying actually.”

“Um, well I’m not much with a pair of scissors but I could give it a try.”

“Are you crazy? I have some pride, you know.”

Steve made a mock-hurt expression and smiled. “Then I guess I can find a barber who’ll come to the house.”

Bucky stiffened slightly in his seat. “Yeah, I guess.”

The idea of a stranger clearly made him uncomfortable. To be fair Steve didn’t love it either, too aware that HYDRA might still be gunning for him. There was no way they’d caught them all.

“Okay. How about this? I have a friend who I think might have some experience cutting hair, or at least more than me. Would it be alright if I asked her to do it?”

Bucky pursed his lips. “You trust her?”

“More than just about anyone. She’s proven herself.”

“Alright. Ask her.”

 

Natasha came promptly at eight, huge black shades on and carrying a small bag that might have held clippers or breaking and entering tools (both equally likely with her).

“Hey, thanks Tash.”

“No problem. It sounds like it’s gonna be fun.”

“I don’t know about that.” He waved her in.

She heading into the lounge to find the back courtyard doors open, a large plastic sheet spread over the pavers with a chair in the middle. Bucky sat on the edge of the pool with his pant legs rolled up, kicking his feet idly. He didn’t look at her directly when she stepped outside but she could tell he was watching her.

“Hi. We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Natasha.”

“Bucky.” He said, as if the word still felt strange in his mouth.

“Steve’s told me a lot about you over the past couple of years. I’m glad we got a chance to meet.”

“Yeah. Thanks for coming, by the way. I know it’s stupid but-”

“Hey, don’t stress. I wouldn’t trust my head with those hatchetmen either. Do you wanna get started?”

He nodded and stood as Steve moved to a lounger by the windows. Bucky made his way to the chair and sat, looking up at her expectantly. Natasha dragged over a small table and unzipped her bag, laying out combs and scissors and pins.

“See? Told ya she’d be good at this.” Steve smirked.

“I trust you.”

“Have you thought about how you want it?” she looked at him over her shoulder.

“Uh, dunno. Just shorter, really. It feels getting in my face.”

“Short like Steve’s?” the redhead asked.

Bucky considered it for a minute. “No. Maybe an inch longer than that.”

“Level with the bottom of your ears.”

“Sounds about right.”

She picked up the spray bottle and moved behind him, pinning the top layers out of the way before she started fussing with his hair. His back and shoulders were rigid, blinking more than he should as her hands neared his face.

“So what do you think of the house?” she said amiably.

“It’s peachy.”

“Tony likes to go overboard with his gifts.”

“Ya think? What did he give you?”

“He and I...have a complicated history.”

“Define complicated.” Bucky snickered.

“She stabbed him in the neck with a syringe.” Steve offered.

“Huh,” he eyed the scissors on the table cautiously, “You don’t say.”

“It was for his own good, I promise.”

“I believe you?”

Nat laughed. “Wait until you meet him, then judge me.”

 

She was quiet while she worked, letting Steve distract him since he was clearly more comfortable with the captain. She’d moved from the side to the back when Bucky clicked his tongue.

“How’s it lookin’?”

“Good.” Steve nodded.

“Where did you learn to do this?” the brunette asked Natasha.

“It comes in handy sometimes. I know how to do lots of things.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

Steve snorted. “Don’t go there, Buck. The lady’s more than even you can handle.”

“I’m offended! I’m just being friendly.”

Nat shook her head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Rogers.”

They both laughed at him but he didn’t mind. It was nice to see them getting along, even if it was at his expense.

It didn’t take long for Nat to finish, the sun drying it as she brushed out the much shorter length. It sort of suited him – he wasn’t the polished, slick rascal from Steve’s adolescence, and he wasn’t the dark Winter Soldier. He was just Bucky.

“Do you wanna take a look?” she brushed a few stray hairs off his shoulders.

“Sure.”

He wandered inside and Steve stood, smiling as she cleaned up.

“Thanks again. For all of that.”

“He’s a nice guy when he’s not trying to kill me.”

The blond frowned. “You know he would never-”

“Steve, I get it. It was a joke, just not a very good one.”

“Do you think...do you think he’ll be okay?”

She half-shrugged. “Impossible to say. We can’t know what’s going on in his head. Being here with you should help.”

“I should check on him. Do you want to stay for...I guess it’s brunch at this point.”

“Sure.”

He headed inside, following the hall down to Bucky’s room. The door was open so Steve let himself in, knocking on the ensuite door.

“Buck? What do ya think?”

“It’s fine. Give me a minute.”

Steve frowned. There was a strained quality to Bucky’s tone he didn’t like. “Can I come in?”

“I said I need a minute!”

Yep, definite panic. Steve debated the merits of doing as he asked and then opened the door anyway. The brunette was bent over his sink, staring at the basin. He glowered as the other man entered.

“I thought I just told you to stay out.”

“You tell me lots of things. Doesn’t mean I listen.”

He gave a ragged breath and Steve sat on the vanity where he could see Bucky’s face.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” he said petulantly, but smiled, “I just...I had a memory. From the last time my hair was this short, I figure. It wasn’t a good memory.”

“Okay.” Steve leaned his head back on the mirror.

“I like the hair, really. I just gotta adjust.”

Steve had a feeling that was going to happen a lot in the near future.

 

When Natasha couldn’t find either of them in the main room, she found her way down the corridor and leaned on Bucky’s doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Steve was crouched by the bed, Bucky sitting on the edge with his hands in his lap staring at the window a bit catatonic.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Buck just had a moment. Not about the hair,” he added hurriedly, “Well, not exactly.”

“Can I get you guys anything?”

“No,” Steve looked up with a smile, “I think we’re good. Buck?”

The other man tilted his head away, not answering. Steve sighed so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

“I’ll put the kettle on, just in case.”

She turned to leave when a voice stopped her. “You were there.”

Steve glanced at the redhead. “Who was?”

“Her.”

She frowned, taking a step into the room. “What do you mean?”

Bucky looked away, head bobbing a little uncertainly, but his eyes slowly drew back to her face. “You were there after Zola left.”

“Where? In Russia?” Steve leaned forward.

“That’s impossible. I wasn’t born until-“

“You were there.”

Steve looked at her for help but Natasha was frozen. “Uh, maybe you’re getting things confused? All that playing around with your memories is bound to cause a few crossed pathways, right?”

“She was in Berlin when the Wall fell. The KGB wanted us to stop them taking it down but it was too late. The mob was rising...we stayed in our hotel room instead.”

“I was five years old when the Wall came down.”

“Do you remember it?” he asked blankly.

Natasha blinked. “No. I was only a child.”

“But you were there, looking like you do now. Your sweater was pale blue.”

Steve’s face was full of real alarm now, glancing between Bucky and the Russian, but the brunette seemed to have slipped out of lucidity again. Natasha bit the inside of her cheek hard, fighting not to clench her fists or let her confusion show.

“I’ll get that kettle.”

She marched back through the house and found the vessel, filling it before she flicked it on. The spy steadied herself on the edge of the bench, breathing heavily. What the hell was all that about? It was impossible. Bucky had to be mistaking her for someone else – she wasn’t the only redheaded female spy in the KGB’s history.

Steve walked in too quietl, and she was so tense she almost elbowed him in the nose before realising who it was. “God, sorry.”

“You okay?”

“I look like a liar if I say yes now, huh?”

“Kinda.”

“Then no.”

 

He came closer. “Bucky must have gotten confused. He freaked about the short hair because he was remembering other times it was short, and maybe he had it cut once by someone similar and he mixed you two up.”

“He seemed pretty damn sure it was me.”

“It’s impossible.”

“Is it?” she turned, “Bucky and you were both supposed to be dead and you’re here. Some would have said that was impossible.”

“Nat, if he knew you, why didn’t he remember earlier? On the bridge or when he shot you years ago, or even when you walked out the back this morning?”

“I don’t know. Neither of us know how this works.”

“He knew me.”

“You were like fucking brothers, Steve! You were the most significant person in his life for twenty years. I’d be amazed if he didn’t recognise you.”

She turned, moving further away to cool down. Steve didn’t push her. He knew what it was like when Natasha needed to blow off steam. Letting her yell at him was better than getting a knee to the stomach.

“What if it’s true?” she said, still facing away.

“Nat, it can’t be true.”

“What if it was?”

He gaped for a moment, not sure what to say. “If it were true, then we’d need to consider the possibility you’re older than you think. That HYDRA messed with your memories too.”

“But it’s not true.” She _finally_ looked at him, jaw set tightly.

“No, of course not.”

“Right.”

The kettle whistled behind him and she nodded at it.

“Water’s ready.”

“Uh, yeah,” he opened the cupboard, taking down a mug, “I don’t think Buck’s up for tea but I could sure use one. What about you?”

He looked back at the redhead but she was gone.

“Natasha? Tash?”

The room was empty, the lounge too. Her bag was gone from the table outside.

“Number of persons in the house.”

The computer answered with a beep. “Two humans, Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Location of Natasha Romanov?”

“Unknown, sir.”

He bit his lip, holding the mug too hard until the handle snapped off in protest. Steve walked back to Bucky’s room, frowning as the brunette turned to look at him curiously.

“If you remember anything else about her, I need you to tell me straight away. Alright? Normally I wouldn’t pry but this could be important.”

Bucky nodded. “No problem, kid.”

Steve abandoned making tea, heading instead for his room and closing the door. He opened his laptop and ran a search for Natalia Alianovna Romanova. He had some dates to check.

*****

Nat wasn’t sure how long she’d been on the road, but it was way past dark when she finally stopped to look at her surroundings. She was in the middle of some fucking hick backwater, nothing in sight but truck stops and forest. Why couldn’t her subconscious have directed her somewhere with civilisation? She drove until she found a motel and pulled over, going in to rent a room.

It was small but the noise of the forest was nice, and it seemed both anonymous and safe enough. She collapsed onto the mattress, sighing. The last thing she wanted to do was move but she wanted to take her boots off, and that required removing the knives in them first. When she was comfortable, or relatively so, she took out her phone and rang the only person she ever wanted to speak to when shit went crazy.

“Bar-Bar-Barton’s, how may we service you?”

The obnoxious tone made her smile at least. “It’s me, jackass.”

“Tash! What, you’re too good to video call now? You know I prefer to see that gorgeous face.”

“I’m afraid I look like shit.”

All the humour left his tone. “Why? What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing violent, don’t get too excited,” she picked at a loose thread on the covers, “I went to see Steve and Barnes today.”

“Oh. Was it bad?”

She knew what he meant. “Actually no. He didn’t seem to remember shooting me and the guy is so clearly not all there yet that I didn’t bother bringing it up.”

“Then what happened?”

“He didn’t remember shooting me. But he did remember me.”

“What do you mean? From the escort?”

“No. From 1989.”

Clint was silent for too many seconds and she counted every one.

“He knew you as a kid? You don’t think he had anything to do with your parents…”

“Not as a kid. He said we were in Berlin to stop them taking down the Wall.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“What, like you? Adult you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s impossible.”

“So everyone keeps saying. But Clint, there’s so much going on lately that shouldn’t be. How can I afford to write this off as bullshit?”

“Because you know, Natasha. You know you were a kid in the ‘80s and an awkward but lethal teen in the ‘90s, and you were in Red Room and the KGB and now you’re here. That’s your entire personal history.”

“How can I trust those memories? HYDRA apparently have no problem tinkering with people’s brains.”

“You can’t doubt your entire life on one random comment from a guy you just told me is halfway to a nuthouse.”

“Clint, how can I be certain? I was young when my parents died. I don’t remember any of it. And then Red Room…the facility could have been any decade. It was like a blank slate.”

“It’s still all circumstantial, Nat.”

She cleared her throat, focusing on a loose ceiling tile so she didn’t have to think about what she was saying. “I have dreams, Clint.”

“What kind of dreams?” he asked suspiciously.

“Of things that never happened to me. Assassinations, interrogations. Sex.” she blushed.

“Everyone in our line of work dreams about that shit, Nat.”

“But they’re so _real_.”

“That’s normal.”

She blinked back the stinging in her eyes. “Okay, how about this one: sometimes when we were on a mission and you were ahead, I’d look at you and plan the best spot to put a knife in to take you out quietly. And then afterwards I’d snap out of it and wonder why the fuck I ever thought it.”

“Instincts.” Clint said unconvincingly.

“It’s not fucking instincts when it’s your partner, Barton!”

“Sshh, I know. But you always have a back-up plan, Nat. It was probably just your brain getting ahead of you.”

“I don’t think it was. What if I’ve been carrying around this hidden programming shit all these years, Clint? I could have hurt you. I could have hurt lots of people and never even known.”

“If you were brainwashed they would have triggered you during the whole Triskelion shit.”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m their back-up plan. I have access to Steve and the Winter Soldier.”

“Nat, why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

“I never told anyone before. My defection to SHIELD was so shaky at first, and then…it just seemed stupid to rock the boat about something that was probably all in my head.”

He was quiet and she sniffed, not wanting to cry, especially in front of him.

“Do you want me to come find you?”

“No.”

“Nat, I’m not afraid you’re a secret sleeper or something-”

“It’s not that. I just- I just need to figure it out for myself first, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“I mean it, Tash. Anything.”

She swallowed and nodded even though he couldn’t see. “I know.”

 

After what Steve said about it being important, Bucky honestly tried to remember more about Natasha. He hadn’t been pushing anything so far, letting the thoughts come to him when they sparked but not actively chasing them. Usually he didn’t need to; he’d watch Steve open a can and suddenly have an image of him doing it in a tent while it snowed outside. It was an organic thought, one he might have had even if he’d had all his memories. It felt better to let it happen naturally like that.

And he was a little afraid of what he might find if he dug around too much.

But Natasha had done him a favour with the hair, and he wasn’t stupid enough to miss that she and Steve had worked together to bring down HYDRA so it was a reasonable assumption he’d recently tried to kill her. He felt like he should make it up to her somehow. If she was there in his memories when she shouldn’t be…actually he wasn’t sure she’d want to know.

Some days he just sat cross-legged on the lounge room floor looking at maps and photos of cities, waiting for stuff to fall into place in his head. Sometimes even thinking about thinking was too much, and he spent the whole day in the gym pounding the shit out of Steve’s punching bags. He reckoned they went through almost thirty between them the first week he was there.

Today was one of the quiet days though. Steve had something to discuss with his pal Sam (another person Bucky had apparently tried to kill – really, he needed a list or all future social encounters were going to get awkward) so he was alone in the house. It wasn’t a good feeling. Bucky felt like having Steve around made it a little safer. He couldn’t forget who he was with someone there to remind him, and he couldn’t be snatched and wiped again.

He was laying on the carpet with his hands under his head catching up on fifteen years of Motown, the music tugging at certain corners of his brain but not sending him into a full memory meltdown. Music seemed to be safer than TV and photos; maybe he hadn’t had much time to listen to the radio when he was busy murdering HYDRA’s enemies. The alarm thing he didn’t really understand beeped and he sat up, thinking Steve might be back.

“Uh, report?”

“One human requesting entrance at the gate.”

“Identify.” He straightened, muscles tensing automatically.

“Natasha Romanov.”

He slumped a little, sticking his lip out. Steve hadn’t told him she was coming. “Let her in.”

Bucky got up and turned the music down, moving to open the front door. He watched as Nat pulled up, parking by the door so she wouldn’t be exposed for long when she got out. He knew that trick.

“Hi.” The redhead smiled at him.

“Hey. Steve’s not here, if you’re lookin’ for him.”

“I wanted to see you actually.”

“What? Me?”

“Yeah. I thought you might be sick of him by now, need some new company.”

He looked her over speculatively, crossing his arms. “I won’t say no.”

“Tell me, has the technophobe taught you to use the Xbox yet?”

He smiled. “No.”

“How about we play some Guitar Hero then?”

“What is it?”

“You play along with the songs.”

Music. He could do music. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

There was a flicker of something behind her eyes when she grinned at him, but Bucky wrote it off as a trick of the light.

 

He actually did have fun with Natasha. She was spunky, bold and funny and very mysterious. He liked that in a woman. He liked that she wasn’t afraid of him and that he was a little afraid of her. They chatted and played until Steve got back, roping him into a few rounds before the redhead stood.

“I should get going.”

“Okay. Thanks for hanging out today. It was nice.”

“Any time, slick.” She leaned in and kissed Steve’s cheek, and then she moved to Bucky like it was no big deal.

And his heart dropped out of his fucking chest, because those lips had touched his face before.

He stood there frozen as she pulled back, and from her expression she knew he was remembering. But she didn’t say anything, just waved to Steve and left, Bucky still staring after her.

“Wanna order in for dinner?”

He didn’t respond, a perfectly clear image of a kiss blazoned across his vision.

“Buck, you there? Hello?”

“What?” he jerked his head.

“You zoned out. I know Nat’s cute but if she catches you staring at her ass, she’s gonna kick yours.”

“No, it was…”

Steve’s face changed. “A memory?”

Bucky glanced at him and pressed his lips together. For some reason he didn’t think the captain needed to know about this one. “Yeah. Me learning guitar in the ‘60s from some kid at the barracks.”

“Sweet. Think you could remember how to play?”

“Maybe.”

“So, ordering in?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna lie down before dinner if that’s okay. That one took it out of me.”

“Go, go. I’ll get one of everything.”

Bucky drifted aimlessly towards his room, closing the door and leaning back against it heavily. He’d kissed Natasha Romanov once upon a time – not someone like her, the actual Natasha. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that information? If he kept remembering, would he find…more? More than kissing? It suddenly seemed a bit pervy, especially if she couldn’t remember it either.

But more importantly she was clearly testing him. He knew when he was being played. If she thought she could jumpstart his recall process, well she might be right, but Bucky wasn’t going to say a single word until he knew more about her. Just because he remembered being in Berlin together did not mean they were old friends – or old flames. If she was a threat, it would be better if she didn’t know it.

*****

Nat started paying regular visits every few days or so. Usually Steve was home because he never left Bucky for too long, but the blond was completely oblivious to the new tension between his friends and had no problem leaving them alone together if he needed to do stuff.

Bucky liked Natasha, really. She was as great as she’d seemed, even better than Steve had said, and she was helping him catch up on the culture he’d missed and keeping him from getting bored. He wished she’d stop coming. When she was around he got a…feeling. Something he couldn’t really place but it was protective and sad at the same time. He didn’t trust her, and yet somehow his body told him it was okay to; he couldn’t look at her without thinking they’d been wrapped around each other five minutes before.

“So how’s it going up there?” she tapped the side of her head.

He blinked. She didn’t usually bring it up but Steve was outside on the phone to Hill and for once they were alone on the couch, the movie paused until the super soldier came back.

“It’s coming along. I can tell you my mama’s recipe for peanut butter cookies and the scar behind the knee of my first girlfriend. I can tell you I shot JFK. I can tell you on Black Monday when the markets crashed, I was having a burger in a diner in some shithole in Prague and there was this cute waitress with perfect white-blonde curls.”

“Wow. Specific.”

“Whatever Zola did made the memories I do have super sharp. I guess when I get them all back it will be like one big technicolour joyride through history.”

“Anything interesting? Secrets about Steve I shouldn’t know?” she laughed, but he could see her fishing.

“He used to turn the cutest shade of red when a girl talked to him and his throat would just close up.”

“I already knew he was terrible with women.”

“Nah, not women. Girls. The first person I met who could ever be called more than that was Agent Carter and she seemed to like Steve just fine.”

“He tells me you had no trouble in that field either.”

He shrugged, half-smiling. “It was easy as a man in uniform.”

“And before?”

“Yeah alright, I had some fun.”

“And after?”

He ran his tongue along his teeth, eying her directly, daring her to voice her real question. But she didn’t and he shrugged.

“Nobody special, but ask me in a few days. I might rediscover the love of my life.”

She gave him a look that was probably supposed to be sympathetic and very deliberately put a hand on his knee. Bucky stiffened, eyes closing at the sensation.

“You okay? Did you-”

“Yeah. I was in Ankara and I was…I was trying to blow up the American embassy, I got a shot to the knee. You put pressure on the wound til the truck got us out.”

“ _I_ put pressure on it.” Her voice shook.

“Hmm?” he shook off the image of her hands covered in blood, red hair hanging over half her face as bullets whistled past and people screamed, dust everywhere.

“The bombing in Ankara was in 1958.”

Bucky looked at her, waiting for her to say something else, but she only took her hand back and faced the television. Steve opened the outside door, smiling apologetically as he came in.

“Sorry. Where were we?”

 

“Hello?”

“Domovoi, it’s Natalia.”

“Natalia?” she could hear the frown through the phone, “It is not like you to call so often. What have I done to earn such good feeling?”

“I need another favour.”

Domovoi sighed. “Always favours, Natalia. Why don’t you come home and visit?”

“I swear on my next trip east I’ll spend a week on your couch.”

“You better. What is this favour?”

“Remember the file I asked for the other week?”

“I am ignorant of it, or its absence from the KGB records room.”

“Well are you also ignorant of the existence of any connected files?”

“What do you mean connected?”

She toyed with the edge of her curtains, peeking out through the blinds. “Other agents used in the same program. Allies of the Winter Soldier, or partners. Anyone who worked with him regularly or experienced the same genetic modification.”

There was a pause. “Why do you want to know this, Natalia? I am not getting our old comrades in trouble by helping you, am I?”

“No, no, I’m not hunting anyone. Promise. Just chasing up some background for this guy.”

“Well there was nothing to indicate he had associates.”

Natasha bit her lip. “You’re sure?”

“When am I ever not sure?”

“Right. Uh, then can you send me something else?”

“What?”

“I need copies of my files.”

“Why in God’s name would you need them? You know what’s in them.”

“I just need them. Every scrap you can get, every coded reference.”

The old man huffed. “It is no small task, Natalia.”

“You’ll be well compensated for the trouble.”

“What are you looking for?”

She cleared her throat. “Just send it all, okay?”

“Of course, of course.”

“All my best to Ludmilla.”

“I will tell her. And you can tell her in person when you visit.”

“Yeah.”

Natasha hung up, throwing the phone on the couch. Domovoi was her last resort. There was nothing about her she didn’t know in SHIELD’s files. There was nothing about her at all in HYDRA’s. Clint was there, and Fury and Hill and Sitwell and Hand and Coulson – in fact every single SHIELD agent had a file that was marked with their allegiance and potential for conversion, their personal and career histories, even their scars and old injuries. There was absolutely nothing on Natasha. It was like she didn’t exist.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

 

Steve opened the front door as Natasha’s car pulled up. She climbed out, slamming the door furiously.

“Nat?”

But she ignored him and stalked past, heading straight for Bucky’s room. The redhead threw the door open, not caring about Steve catching up behind her.

“I want you to get a brain scan.”

“What?” Bucky glared, “Why?”

“It’s important we see what damage HYDRA did.”

“I already said no doctors.”

“It’s no longer optional.”

“What the fuck? You gonna force me into it?”

“If I have to.”

“Nat-” Steve started.

“Why is it so fucking important all of a sudden?”

“Because I want to compare it to mine!”

Both men were silent, the vein in Bucky’s jaw twitching. Natasha ground her teeth.

“Last night I had a dream we were on a roof top. You had a rifle and I was watching the hotel balcony with binoculars.”

He looked away uncomfortably. “This morning I was shaving and I got a picture of you slitting a man’s throat with a straight razor.”

“We knew each other, Bucky. And you’re scrambling to get the memories back but for me they’re just…gone. I have to know.”

“What if you’re the lucky one? Have you thought about that, huh? Maybe it’s better not knowing.” He spat bitterly.

“Do you think you could cope if you never got back the rest of your missing pieces?”

He looked at Steve. The blond seemed thrown, not sure how to react. Bucky licked his lips.

“Alright. I’ll get a scan – but not at a regular hospital.”

“Where?” Steve frowned.

“You’ve got a friend who’s a doctor, right? Get him to do it.”

“Bruce is in New York,” Natasha pointed out, “And even if we went, I’m not sure he has the right equipment.”

“Find some then. Secure a ward or something and I’ll go.”

Steve and Nat exchanged a look. “Yeah, I think we can manage that.”


	2. Chapter 2

Leaving the house made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Bucky shifted in his seat, glancing at Steve every few seconds. Natasha was up front with the driver and it made him feel better in ways it shouldn’t, like he was used to having her watch his back. There were too many people, too many potential threats. But Steve’s friend Tony had sent a private jet, so once they reached the airport the crowds thinned out and then disappeared altogether.

“Alright. Ready?” Steve glanced at him.

“Yeah. Give me a minute to check the plane and I’ll be good.”

Bucky climbed out and headed for the jet, bending to scope out the bottom before checking the stairs. Steve looked at Natasha.

“Is this, uh, okay?”

“You mean sane and non-paranoid? Yes Cap, it’s very normal for ex-espionage to be mistrustful of vehicles.”

“No I mean you. Having dreams. And his memories...”

“I don’t think so.” She said quietly.

“What are you going to do if they’re real?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and got out, walking up the stairs to find Bucky on the floor looking under the seats. She didn’t say a word, merely making her own search of the cockpit and cabin lockers.

“All clear.”

He nodded. “Me too.”

He sat where he could see the front door and after a second she took the seat opposite, leaving the one across the aisle for Steve. Natasha put her belt on and rested her arm on the table, and for some reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint Bucky reached out and took her hand. She stiffened momentarily and he cringed.

“Sorry. It just makes me feel less terrified of the whole going places and seeing people thing.”

“It’s okay,” she said carefully, “I understand.”

“You don’t have to-” he tried to let go.

“It’s fine, really. If it helps I don’t mind.”

He nodded and sat back, glancing through the window. Steve was talking to the driver and the pilot outside, probably confirming their arrangements. He was reliable like that. Bucky liked it; it meant he didn’t have to be.

Nat looked at him sidelong. “What were we, Bucky?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before. In your memories, am I just a partner or…”

He turned his gaze back outside, leaning his chin on his fist. “I don’t know yet.”

“Well what do you think?”

He eyed her warily and she shook her head.

“You’re not an idiot, Bucky. I know you remember more than just slitting people’s throats and blue sweaters.”

He took a shuddery breath, mind filled with another flash of her smiling up at him, lips swollen with kissing. “We weren’t just partners.”

She nodded, Steve’s arrival ending the conversation. He raised a brow at them holding hands but strapped himself in without comment, and Bucky was very, very glad.

 

He checked the car waiting for them at Teterboro before he’d let anyone get in. The driver, a Happy Hogan, seemed to take offence to the suggestion he couldn’t do his job but Bucky didn’t care. He wasn’t taking anyone else’s word when it came to his safety. Or Natasha’s.

And Steve, he reminded himself, don’t forget him.

The drive to the city was like a nightmare. Everywhere he looked, the buildings superimposed themselves with how they used to look, not just in the years before he enlisted  but since then as well, billboards changing to huge ‘70s-era ads and whole storeys disappearing in his mind. Eventually he had to close his eyes just so he could sift through what had already resurfaced without adding more.

“We’re here.”

Bucky opened his eyes as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. Happy drove past the main doors, circling around to a back entrance by the big white dumpsters. There was a man waiting there in a white coat and purple shirt, his hair peppered with grey. He looked nervous. Bucky was pleased to see he wasn’t the only one.

“Dr Banner.” Steve smiled as he got out.

“Please, I think Bruce is fine by this stage.”

“Bruce.” He shook his hand.

“Doctor.” Natasha nodded.

The older man gave her a wry look. “Good to see you again, Miss Romanov.”

“I think Natasha is fine if you’re going to be looking in my head, doc.”

“And you must be Sergeant Barnes.” He turned to Bucky.

“Hi. It’s good of you to help, Dr Banner.”

“Anything for my comrades-in-arms, or shield-brothers as Thor would say. Shall we get started?”

“Please. We don’t wanna spend any more time here than necessary.” Steve replied.

They followed him through the halls, heading for the neurology lab. Something in Bruce’s air made Bucky a little calmer. It might have been the way he explained things as they walked, glancing back to check they were following his rambling monologue about old colleagues and portable MRIs. It might have been the way he seemed as uncomfortable as Bucky whenever someone passed.

“We can’t put you in a full scanner unfortunately, thanks to your uh, prosthesis. How do you get through metal detectors by the way?”

He blinked at the randomness of the question. “I don’t.”

“Right. I suppose you didn’t exactly pass through customs on the way to your assignments.”

He looked at Bruce expecting contempt or even disgust for his ‘assignments’, but the man was totally neutral when he looked up. His respect for the doctor grew even more. They reached the imaging ward and Bruce waved them in. They had the place to themselves from the looks of it.

“Okay, here is the part where you both get to put on really uncomfortable paper gowns.” Bruce smiled at them ruefully.

“It’s cool, doc. I think I can find a way to rock it.” Nat smirked.

“I don’t doubt it.”

 

Bucky quickly stripped and changed into the robe provided. It didn’t cover his arm, and he clutched it to himself a little self-consciously when he came out of the change room. Bruce was messing with some settings on the machine, talking to Steve quietly, and he looked up when Bucky entered.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll need you to sit here.”

It was a chair with an attachment on a fixed arm, the top like a half sphere. Bucky didn’t like the look of it but he sat, fidgeting for a moment before he settled in.

“Okay, I’m gonna put this shield on you so we only get from the neck up.” He gestured to a collar with what were basically big floppy shoulder pads attached.

“And then what?”

“Then Steve and I step into the viewing booth, and the scanner does its thing.”

Bucky looked up at the metal almost cradling his skull and shook his head. “Will it work if I’m unconscious?”

Bruce frowned “Well yes, but I was hoping to ask you some questions while it’s operating, see which parts light up.”

“You have to knock me out.” he looked at Steve.

“What? Buck, no.”

“I swear Steve, just sitting here is giving me the creeps. When this thing starts up I’m probably going to have a full-blown freak out. You have to knock me out.”

“I’m not sure I can do that, Buck.”

“Steve,” he pleaded, “You have to. I can’t do this awake.”

Bruce bit his lip but nodded. “I need him to be able to keep still. If you can’t do that by yourself then I think it would be better if you were unconscious. But let me sedate you so we can control it.”

“Sedatives won’t work,” Steve folded his arms grimly, “Metabolism’s too high.”

“Um, okay. Maybe a drip then?”

“Just do it.” Bucky ground out.

Steve clenched his jaw. “Hold on.”

His arm whipped out and something like a freight train connected with Bucky’s temple, and then there was nothing.

*****

When he woke up Steve was sitting next to his chair looking worried, hands clasped in front of his face. Bucky groaned and rolled his head on his neck to stretch out the kinks.

“Damn kid, you got a helluva swing.”

“Buck! You okay?”

“I’ll be fine in five minutes. Doc get his scan?”

“Yeah, he’s just finishing up Tash now.”

Bucky nodded and stood, a bit clumsy at first. But then the accelerated healing kicked in and he got his balance back, disappearing into the change room to get dressed.

“So am I a nutter?” he joked through the door.

“Bruce didn’t mention it, but I know that without the scan.”

Bucky smirked, glad Steve was over his weird guilt. It wasn’t like he’d sucker punched him; Bucky had asked, after all. The guy was just too sweet for his own good.

“Let’s go find them.”

They headed a few rooms down to a big MRI, knocking on the viewing room door. Bruce looked up and let them in.

“Hey. Feeling okay?”

“Fine, doc. How’s she going?” Bucky nodded through the window at the redhead lying like a corpse on the table, feet sticking out.

“Almost done.”

“And the results?”

He cleared his throat. “I haven’t done a full comparison yet.”

“But you know what’s going on.”

“Let’s wait for Nat.”

They sat silently while the scan finished and Bruce pulled her out of the machine, letting the woman dress and join them before he pulled up the two images side by side on his monitor.

“Okay, who wants to go first?” Bruce asked, looking edgy. Were his eyes suddenly greener?

“I will.” Bucky said. At least they already knew he’d been altered.

“So HYDRA have made a huge mess in your head, pal. The whole thing is a maze of different wipes, the pathways blocked off with scar tissue of various sizes. I think your body’s healing capacities are slowly working to remove the blockages, and that’s why your memories are coming back.”

“But they will come back?”

“They should do. The fact you can remember Steve is promising, because those memories are the oldest and the scar tissue has had the most time to form. I would say that’s why they had to keep wiping you, to keep up with the rate of regeneration.”

“That’s great then,” Steve grinned, “All we have to do is wait and your brain will take care of itself.”

“It’s promising, yes. There shouldn’t be any lasting damage now.”

“And me?” Nat asked.

 

Bruce looked down at the desk. “Your scan...it’s not like Bucky’s. There’s no scar tissue. But a large number of the neuron pathways that should hold your long-term memories have been severed.”

“Severed?”

“Yes, probably by some kind of chemical agent. I can see the connections but they don’t meet up. It’s like the memories are still there but someone’s stopped you accessing them in a single, blanket wipe.”

“So if you could make them line up again...”

“You’d have them all back, yes. Obviously your subconscious had some limited access if you dream about them. Reconnecting the dots could be either incredibly simple or very difficult and detailed, depending on our approach.”

“Do we know who did it?”

He shrugged. “There’s no way of telling. The process is different to Bucky’s but that might have been on purpose because HYDRA wanted to keep using him.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Nat?” Steve put a hand on her shoulder, “Do you want a minute?”

“How soon can we start fixing it?” she ignored him.

Bruce looked over the top of his glasses at her. “Are you sure you want to?”

“It’s not like Zola’s around to ask who I used to be. This seems our best bet.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Steve pointed out, “You don’t know if those memories are locked up for a reason.”

“Steve, I’d rather know exactly who I am and where I came from, even if it’s awful. It’s better than wandering around knowing my whole life is a lie and I could be a ticking time bomb.”

“I’ll start working on some trial formulas right away. We have some drugs designed to help coma patients and stroke victims that might be suitable as a base.” Bruce stood.

“We’ll wait in the Tower.” Steve said.

“Excuse me.” Nat pushed her way past, closing the hallway door behind her.

The three men exchanged a worried look. Bucky rubbed a hand over his brow.

“I’ll go after her.”

“You sure, Buck?”

“I think I’m the most qualified to help.”

“Okay. Take this,” Steve handed him his phone, “And call Bruce when you guys are ready to leave. I’ll come get you.”

He put it in his pocket and followed her, the redhead nowhere to be seen. But he could smell the leather of her jacket, warm from her body as stress raised her temperature. He trailed Natasha through the ward and up a flight of emergency stairs, coming out near the chemo department. The scent died at a cleaners’ store room. He let himself in, not bothering to turn the light on. He could see just fine.

“Natasha?”

Someone sniffed and he peered between two rows of stainless steel shelving. The redhead was on the floor hugging her knees. Her shoulders shook slightly but she wasn’t making any noise.

“Do you want me to go?” Bucky asked quietly.

She sniffed again and looked up at him, tears down both cheeks. “No. It’s okay. I’d feel better if you stayed, actually. I can’t exactly watch my back right now.”

He sat against the shelving, hands in his lap. “Is there someone I can call for you?”

Natasha shook her head. “I’ll talk to Clint later. It’s not something I wanna do over the phone and he, uh, he’s in Lisbon I think.”

“Okay. Do you wanna talk to me about it?”

“That would be the smart thing, right?” she wiped her face, “Who would understand better than my fellow amnesia buddy and ex-more-than-partner?”

He moved closer, shuffling over the floor until he could slowly wrap an arm around her shoulders and tug her to his chest. Natasha gave a sob, letting her hands fist in his shirt.

“Everything...everything I ever thought was all bullshit. When I found out I’d been helping HYDRA all these years, I felt like things were tumbling out of control. And now nothing, nothing about me is real. Who the fuck am I? I thought I knew what was me and what was a cover, but even my own life was made up by someone else.”

She started crying again and he held her closer, careful not to crush her too tight with the bionic arm. “You’re Natasha. They can’t change that.”

“Am I? Who knows if that’s even my real name? I don’t have _anything_ , Bucky. Nothing to hold onto. Nothing solid.”

“You’ve got me and Steve. We’re both pretty damn solid. You’ve got your guy Clint. And Dr Banner seems like a nice guy too.”

She chuckled wetly. “You haven’t seen his bad side yet.”

“We’ll get through this, okay? We’ll do it together.”

Natasha wept like someone who was taught never to show tears unless they got you something, and Bucky held her without another word. He couldn’t make this right but he could certainly make sure she wasn’t dealing with it by herself.

 

It was awhile before she could stop crying, and longer before she felt presentable enough to face the halls. If her eyes were still a bit red people would probably write it off as a normal reaction to a sick loved one. Eventually Natasha straightened and pulled away from Bucky’s comforting hold.

“Thanks.”

“Forget it.”

She smiled wryly. “Don’t joke – I just might.”

He didn’t quite return the smile but he came with when she opened the door. The ex-soldier pulled out a phone she recognised as Steve’s and handed it to her.

“Here, I’m still not great with these things. Didn’t really use them before. I had no one to call.”

“I’ll tell him to meet us at the car.” She took it, sending a quick text to Bruce. It was easier than trying to talk or having to listen to Steve’s sympathetic tones.

She let her internal compass guide them back to the side entrance and found Happy waiting behind the wheel, reading a glossy mag Nat hoped Pepper had left behind. She opened the door and waved Bucky in first, climbing in beside him. The redhead considered taking his hand but they had company, and she didn’t want anyone to know how fragile she was right now.

Steve came out a moment later and paused when he saw them together in the back seat. He adjusted course and took the front passenger side as if he’d always meant to and she had to be grateful for the captain’s easy-going acceptance.

“Bruce wanted to get straight into it but he said to tell you goodbye from him. We’ll go to the Tower now if that’s alright, Happy.”

“Mr Stark will be thrilled to have you.”

“I’m sure.” Nat smirked.

 

The elevator took them straight up to the penthouse, opening on an empty room. Steve raised his brows as they entered.

“Jarvis?”

“Captain Rogers, welcome. Sir is presently on his way up from the workshop. He asks that you make yourselves comfortable.”

“I’m helping myself to his bar then,” Nat walked straight over, “You two?”

“I can’t get drunk.” They said at the same time.

“Ha! You’re missin’ out. It takes me a good amount but once I’m there it’s all breezy, baby.”

She poured herself half a tumbler of vodka and threw it back in one hit, ignoring Steve’s wince as she refilled the glass and started sipping. The elevator opened and Tony walked in wearing a singlet and grease-smeared pants.

“You cleanin’ out my liquor, Romanov?”

“Good to see you too, Tony.”

“At least have the decency to pour me one. Captain.” he struck Steve on the back.

“Hey Tony. This is Bu-”

“Bucky Barnes, life-long best friend and defender, the Winter Soldier and currently ex-HYDRA spokesman for chronic Alzheimer’s,” he extended his hand, “Hi. Tony Stark.”

“I know.”

“Of course! I’m sure Steve barely stops gushing about my generosity and intelligence.”

“Actually it’s cos you look like your father.”

Tony’s smile faded. “Romanov, where’s that drink?”

“Right here.” She walked over with it.

Steve blushed. “I should have mentioned Buck knew Howard some too. Sorry Tony, I didn’t think-”

“It’s fine. The old man has lots of friends crawling out of the woodwork now. Life’s crazy like that.”

“Never liked the guy.”

“Oh?” Tony arched a brow.

Bucky smiled. “Yeah. He kept stealing all the girls I wanted.”

The engineer laughed. “You’re very welcome in this house, Buckeroo. Anything else you wanna share about Dad’s flaws is fine with me. Drink?”

“They can’t get drunk.” Nat supplied helpfully.

“Jesus, I feel sorry for you. Oh well, more for us. Why don’t you take a seat while I clean up? Jarvis will arrange some rooms and dinner, and we can catch up.”

“Sure.”

He bustled off down the hall and Bucky smiled at Steve. “I like him.”

“You never told me you didn’t like Howard.”

“What, the posh pretty boy with the big head? Wonder how that missed your attention. Maybe you were spending too much time mooning over the gal.”

Steve went to mutter something angry and Bucky placed a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you know I don’t mean it in a bad way.”

“I know, I know. You’re probably right.”

“I always am.”

 

Dinner had an odd atmosphere. Natasha was quiet and withdrawn, even more so than usual. She didn’t have the energy to keep up a cheerful facade so she stuck to drinking and observing, two things she was good at. Tony seemed to talk more to compensate, rattling along so fast Steve kept losing track of the conversation. Bucky seemed to keep up alright though and if he hadn’t liked Howard Stark, he was a huge fan of Tony. He even took his jacket off when the inventor asked to see his arm, letting him prod and examine it with gritted teeth.

If Tony seemed to be making light of the whole situation, it was at least partly an act. When Nat went up to refill her glass he wandered over, checking that Bucky and Steve were distracted on the balcony outside before he spoke.

“How are you really doin’, Romanov?”

She shrugged. “About as well as can be expected I guess. How did you feel when you realised Obie was the one who had you kidnapped?”

“Like my insides had dropped out through a gaping hole in my stomach.”

“Yeah, I guess it feels like that.”

“Better to know than not, right?”

She laughed. “You’re the only one who seems to think that.”

“Apart from you?”

“Apart from me. And maybe Bucky. I think he knows what it’s like to feel hollow but he’s seen enough to miss his blissful ignorance.”

“You know it won’t change anything, right? No matter who you used to be, you’re still gonna be our Nat. You’ll have a place on the team, and here with us.”

“Newsflash Stark: there is no more team. The Avengers don’t exist without SHIELD.”

“Are you kidding? Who says we need supervision? If there’s a threat we’ll deal with it. Simple as that.”

He headed back outside and she stood there, hand frozen to the vodka bottle. Did simple really exist anymore?

*****

Their second day in New York Steve tried and failed to get Bucky to go with him to Brooklyn. It was Nat who convinced him he could handle it, that even though he was probably going to be swamped with new memories they’d be good ones of Steve and his family, and it would be okay.

Being out and around people turned out not to be so bad when he had Steve with him. The two of them ghosted through the city unnoticed and by the time they headed back to Stark Tower, Bucky was having probably the most fun he’d had since he’d moved in.

“You two seem full of beans,” Tony remarked dryly as they came in, “Brooklyn was fun?”

“Yeah, it was.” Steve grinned.

“Anything exciting pop up?” he tapped his head.

“I remembered that Steve caught me smoking out the back of the school. He didn’t take too kindly to it.” Bucky nudged him playfully.

“Caught you? It wasn’t hard when you stank of tobacco! It played hell with my asthma.”

“Aw, so this caretaker thing isn’t recent.”

“Nah, he’s a big teddy bear.” Bucky teased.

“Where’s Tash?” Steve looked around.

Tony shrugged indifferently. “According to Jarvis she spent about four hours in the gym, called Clint, and she’s been aggressively meditating ever since.”

“Did you check on her?”

“I respect a lady’s privacy.”

Steve snorted. “Since when?”

“Maybe we should ask if she’s hungry?” Bucky frowned.

“Good call. Even Russians need to eat. Jarv, relay the invitation to the lovely Natasha would you?”

Bucky took off his boots while they waited, lining them up neatly by the door.

“You never used to be so tidy.” Steve smiled, but with a touch of sadness.

“I’ve got a whole bunch of new habits, kid.”

“I don’t think you get to call him that anymore,” Tony pointed out, “Now he’s all bulked up like a Ken doll.”

“Miss Romanov has declined to join you, sir.”

“Okay. We’ll send something to her room just in case she changes her mind. What do you guys feel like?”

“Something spicy.” Steve said.

“Wasn’t Thai on your list?”

“Good call, super soldiers. Let me guess – your appetite is as bad as his?” Tony glanced at Bucky almost accusingly.

“Yeah.”

“Jarv, we’re gonna need a lot of food. A lot. And then I’m thinking karaoke.”

“Tony!” Steve clucked his tongue.

“No complaints, Cap. My house, my rules, and I wanna hear you two crooning like it’s 1939.”

 

With Tony to bully them into having fun, Bucky forgot to worry about Natasha for a bit. He eventually said goodnight, leaving the Avengers to talk (probably about him) and heading down to their floor. He noticed the closed door of Nat’s room and paused, but shook his head. If she wanted to talk she would have come up.

He changed into his pyjama pants, climbing under the sheets. Bucky turned off the light and rolled over, pillowing his head on his normal arm as he thought about their old neighbourhood and all the ways it had changed and all the ways it was the same.

“Bucky?”

He turned his head. Nat was in the doorway in her own night clothes, a singlet and black shorts. She’d gotten two steps into the room without him even noticing and once again he was amazed at her stealth. He sat up and smiled.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You’re not. Come in.”

She took another couple of steps, closing the door softly.

“You wanted to talk?”

Nat brushed the palm of one hand over her hip, back and forth in what he would have called a nervous tic if she’d been anyone else. She took so long he thought maybe she’d changed her mind but he was silent. Bucky was used to long waits.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“When you get the memories back.”

Bucky sighed. “It’s...weird. Like they were never missing but also it kinda kicks me out of whatever moment I’m having, ya know? Like I have to stop and process it but I already know it at the same time.”

“Mine probably won’t be like that, huh?”

“I dunno. I think it will be less confusing because you won’t have any gaps, but at the same time trying to deal with a heap of shit at once is probably going to suck.”

“We don’t even know how old I really am,” she shook her head, “I could have fifty years worth in my head. A hundred even.”

“That might be educational at least.” He tried a smile.

She looked down. “Can you tell me what the oldest memory you have of us together is?”

“Nat, it’s all a bit jumbled in here still. Chronologically speaking I have some rearranging to do.”

“Tell me what you think it is then.”

He sighed, eyes drifting off across the room as he scratched his head. “You and me in some tiny European country that doesn’t exist anymore. We’re walking down the street just talking, not on a job. Judging by the clothes and the cars I think it was mid-60s but you know those old USSR places, always a bit behind style-wise. It could have been the ‘80s for all I know.”

She bit her lip, staring at the floor. “Thanks.”

“Anything I can do to help.”

She let herself out, door closing with a thud, and he wondered if he should have lied.

 

_Natasha was running, boots hitting the concrete but barely registering above the thump of her heart. She didn’t waste time looking over her shoulder; she could hear the clunk of spotlights turning on and shouting, the click of guns being loaded. That was a sound she’d know anywhere, no matter how fucked up she was. She darted sideways into an alley and ran, trying to find a fire escape low enough to climb. There was a whistle above and she looked up to find a strong silver arm descending for her._

Nat woke with a gasp, sweat gathering at the base of her skull and prickling unpleasantly. She glanced at the clock. 4am? She should try to get back to sleep but her body was humming, carrying the panic of her dream.

She got up and splashed her face in the bathroom sink, refusing to look at herself in the mirror and see if she came across as tired as she felt. Instead she changed into workout gear and snuck down the hall to the elevator, heading for the gym. It was a sweet set-up, every machine you could ever want, top quality weights and all kinds of training weapons.

“Jarvis, something upbeat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The music started, loud and fast like she wanted with a lot of bass. Natasha jumped on an elliptical and focused only on her heart, moving her limbs to the rhythm automatically. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there when Steve came in but he didn’t say anything, just climbed on a treadmill and started running. The redhead took a second to worry about the safety of Tony’s equipment, because the belt would wear out before Steve’s feet did.

She switched machines a few times, did some stretching and flips to keep herself limber. Nat was back on her cardio when Bucky came in. He gave her a nod and chose one of the bigger barbells, hefting it with his human arm. She watched curiously for a moment and Steve followed her gaze with a grin.

“Buck’s lucky. He’s got half the work done for him.”

“Like either of you ever need to worry about staying in shape,” she smiled, “It’s genetic at this point. You couldn’t possibly ever eat enough to put on weight.”

“We can still lose muscle.” Bucky said between grunts.

“You tired of that yet?” Steve gestured at the exercise bike, “I was thinking we could spar.”

“No.” Bucky and Natasha said at the same time.

He raised his brows. “Anyone wanna tell me why not?”

“I had a dream,” Nat smiled, fake and thin, “I’m still in high adrenaline mode. It wouldn’t be much fun for you.”

“I could use the challenge.”

“Watching either of you fight gives me too much to think about.” Bucky complained.

Steve sighed. “Okay. Maybe I can find Tony and ask him to suit up.”

“Like I’m gonna let you destroy another one of my suits,” Tony scoffed as he entered, “We all enjoying our endorphin rushes?”

“It’s a gas, thanks.” Bucky winked.

“Good. Cos Brucey’s upstairs with all kinds of speeches to give, buzzing around like a fuckin’ worker bee.”

The sick feeling of her dream came back tenfold and Nat slowed, her legs coming to a stop.

“We shouldn’t keep him waiting then.”

“You can at least clean up, Romanov. Geez, take a minute or two before you go throwing yourself into the next adventure.”

“This isn’t much of an adventure.” She muttered.

Tony shrugged. “You never know.”

 

They all went back to the guest level to shower and change. Nat took longer than usual to dress, sorting through the contents of her suitcase until she found a really soft maroon jumper. It felt good, comforting, and she needed all the help she could get.

Steve was already in the penthouse when she got there, talking to Bruce by the TV while Tony did what he did best and made himself a drink.

“Hey.” She waved.

“Hi! Natasha, hi.” Bruce smiled. She groaned internally. Someone had to teach that guy to hide his emotions better.

“Tony said you had some news?”

“I did some rudimentary tests – very basic, I mean I don’t have the mindwiping capabilities HYDRA did and I’m not sure memory’s something that can be adequately explored in animals-”

“Bruce.” She said gently.

“But I think I have a serum based partly on Steve and Bucky’s modifications that will boost your natural healing rate temporarily and specifically focus on neurological health. I adapted it with a few drugs known to improve memory loss in senile patients. It should help the pathways join back up.”

“Side effects?”

He stuck his lip out. “Apart from joining all the pathways up wrong? None really.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Steve frowned.

“It won’t really negatively affect her. If the wrong connections form, the information will still be unavailable but there also won’t be any new information. Your brain can’t mash together two halves of two distinct memories and come up with anything tangible.”

“What about Bucky? Could it help him too?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips for lack of anywhere better to put them.

“After taking a closer look at his scans, I’d say he’s at about 45-55% recall right now. The rest should happen on its own without my interference, if the drug could even survive long enough in his system to make an impact.”

The man in question stepped out of the elevator and looked around. “Dr Banner.”

“Sergeant.”

“What’s happening?”

“Well Bruce here is about to stick dear Natasha in the neck with a syringe in a display of poetic justice so beautiful it practically writes itself,” Tony crowed, “And cross his fingers that she suddenly gets her whole life back.”

“Huh. That sounds decidedly not fun.”

“I doubt there’s anything fun involved in brainwashing ever.” Nat made a face.

“Do you want to do this, Nat?” Bruce asked, “Because I can set up now and we can get it over with right away, or you can have some time to think about it.”

“Thinking about it isn’t the problem yet. I wanna do it.”

“Okay. Give me five minutes.”

 

She didn’t want to watch Bruce get his instruments together but she couldn’t help it. Her survival instincts said to watch anyone about to mess with her body very closely, even if it was a friend. Natasha waited by the bar, carefully ignoring the look Tony was giving her. Steve was even worse, glancing between her and Bucky every few seconds. But strangely enough it was Bucky who kept her anxiety within reasonable limits, his solid bulk like an anchor.

“I’m sorry this won’t work for you,” she said, “You could have your memories back faster.”

“Nat, don’t work about me. You’re about to put yourself in Dr Banner’s hands.”

“Hey!” the older man said, sounding a little hurt.

“No offence, doc. I’m sure you’re swell at what you do.”

“I’m all good here, Tash.”

She inhaled deeply. “Where do you need me?”

“This armchair will do.”

“A lot more comfortable than my experiences, I can tell you.” Bucky joked.

She crossed the room and sat, watching as he opened an alcohol swab and cleaned a space on her neck. Bruce picked up the loaded syringe and looked at her.

“Ready?”

“Not really.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“Yes we do.”

He wrinkled his nose and stuck it in, pushing the plunger. The clear solution emptied into her veins and Nat tried to stay calm, controlling her breathing as her hands flexed on the arms of the chair.

“I don’t feel anything.”

“Give it a minute to reach your brain.”

She nodded and looked up, cataloguing the straight lines of the ceiling as she waited for something to happen. She could be psyching herself up for nothing if the drug was a dud. Nat wasn’t sure if that would be better or worse than finding out it worked.

There was a sharp twinge in her skull and she stiffened, a shiver moving through her whole nervous system.

“Nat?” Bruce leaned in expectantly.

“I think...”

There was another shiver and suddenly her brain was flooded with pictures, smells, sounds, faces, cities. Information poured in faster than she could deal with as the connections sprung back to life and she screamed, hunched over as she closed her eyes and tried to shut it out.

 

“Natasha!” Bruce grabbed her arms, trying to see her face.

“What’s happening?” Steve demanded.

“It’s working, I think.”

“Romanov, can you hear me?” Tony called from somewhere.

She was shooting at men in Nazi uniforms; she was hanging from the side of a moving truck. She was in six different memories at once, all of them overlapping and tangled and loud. She was with the Winter Soldier in Beijing, Rabat, Santiago, Moscow. They were fighting side by side in London, Madrid, New Delhi, Capetown. They were bandaging each other’s wounds, giving cover, providing distractions.

“Natasha?”

She looked up at the now horribly familiar voice and her gaze froze on Bucky’s face. Another slew of memories hit her but these were different. These were the two of them pressed together under the sheets, kissing in safehouses, ripping each other’s clothes off in hotels. These were memories of staring up at him hungrily while he buried himself in her, metal hand crunching right through the headboard. Natasha gasped.

“Tash? Tash, you okay?”

“I remember you.” She whispered.

Bucky blushed and looked down. “Oh.”

“Does it feel like it’s all there?” Bruce shone something in her eyes and she blinked with discomfort.

“I don’t know. It’s mostly stopped but I, I haven’t really looked at it all together.”

“Okay, mind if I ask some questions?”

“Bruce, give her a break.” Tony scolded.

“They might help her get things in some kind of order, and I can’t leave her until I know we haven’t done any damage.”

“It’s fine.” She shook her head a little to clear it.

“Do you know your name?”

The first response was the one she was used to, the name she’d had at Red Room. But her brain knew that was a lie because she could remember working in America during the time she was supposed to be training there, spying on Congressmen and DoD officials for the Motherland. She looked back further, to the earliest memory she had.

“Natasha Alianovna Romanova.”

Bruce looked at Steve. “Is that...do you think that’s what it really is?”

She got a flash of a moment at the facility, of a trainer holding her papers on the desk. But it was a new memory, not from what she thought was her childhood.

“Yes. Natalia Alianovna Romanova, born 12th December 1928 in Stalingrad. My parents died in a house fire when I was five and Ivan Petrovitch took me to the Red Room.”

“1928?” Steve’s brows shot up.

“They must have done the same experiments on her they used on Bucky. Maybe an earlier version of the serum, since Nat doesn’t have the super strength like you guys,” Bruce thought aloud, “What else?”

“I...I don’t remember being wiped. I was in an apartment in, uh, Warsaw? And then something broke the window. The next memory is one from the altered life, me on a KGB misson.”

“When was that?”

“A couple of years ago. Just before I met Clint.”

 

Steve and Tony exchanged a glance.

“Just before SHIELD tried to take you out.”

“So either HYDRA decided to get rid of you and thought they’d let their SHIELD counterparts do it for them...” Steve stroked his cheek.

“Or they knew Clint wouldn’t carry out the order and you’d defect, giving them a Black Widow on the opposite side of the fight, possibly to be retrieved later.”

Bruce frowned. “Is it clear? The difference between what you thought happened from 1984 onwards and what actually happened?”

She tilted her head. “It’s like I think back to a memory and my mind rejects it and suggests the real one. But they’re both still there.”

“I think that’s enough for now.” Bucky said firmly, crossing his arms.

“Of course. Maybe Steve can help you to your room? Sleep might help everything slot into place a bit more.”

“A nap sounds like a great idea, doc.” She tried a smile. She was getting a pounding headache.

“I’ll take her.” Bucky took a few steps closer.

“Um, okay. Nat?” Steve asked uncertainly.

“It’s fine. I don’t suddenly hate him or anything – or any of you, actually. Though I have to admit I have new and conflicting feelings about the time you shot me.” she smirked at Bucky.

“I shot you?” he frowned.

“Oh, you haven’t gotten that one back yet? I’ll tell you all about it on the way down.”

He moved to help her out of the chair and she let him, her muscles sore and stiff from keeping them tensed so long. Tony stopped them near the door.

“I’m lovin’ this, Romanov. I’m officially the youngest person in the room now.”

“Don’t sass your elders, Stark.” She winked.

They got the elevator down to the guest floor and Bucky opened every door for her, watching as if he thought she might collapse. Nat sunk onto her bed, running a hand over the covers.

“Do you need anything?”

“Come here.”

He frowned but sat where she pointed on the mattress beside her. The brunette seemed to be avoiding her gaze now they were alone but she kept hers fixed on him, letting her brain fill in all the details, all the times she’d looked at him before.

“I remember you.”

“I know, you said.”

“ _All_ of it. I’m guessing you remember enough to know what I’m talking about?”

The vein in his neck bulged. “I think so.”

“More than partners was a bit of an understatement, huh?”

“Natasha, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that we were-that we had-”

“Stop. Neither of us knew. I think that was the point.”

 

He nodded. “Does it change anything?”

She looked away. “I don’t know. I have all these feelings I haven’t connected to things yet. When I thought about you before Washington, it was bitterness and maybe fear. And then when you started living with Steve I felt bad for you, and I respected the Bucky he knew. I started to like you in my own way.”

“And now?”

“Now I look at you and it’s like what I feel for Clint. It’s that intense trust of risking our lives together constantly and knowing you had my back for what I’m thinking is at least fifty years, off and on. That’s insane. That’s longer than most marriages.”

He snorted. “Yeah. I feel that way too, like I want to protect you but I also trust you to protect me.”

“And there’s other stuff too. Complicated stuff.”

“Stuff to do with the, uh, naked memories?”

“Maybe. I found you attractive since the haircut so that isn’t new. It’s stronger now though, now I can remember actually fooling around.”

“Do you think we loved each other?”

His voice was so small, so childlike. Natasha didn’t know what answer he wanted. She shook her head. “I don’t know. When I think back...I don’t think either of us could be in love. Not with the programming. They – HYDRA, Red Room, whoever they were – made us into machines. But I’m certainly fonder of you now than I was this morning.”

He smiled. “How could you not be? Fifty extra years of me must be like Christmas and your birthday in one.”

Nat laughed but she was too drained to keep it up long. She nestled back into the pillows and pulled her legs up, slipping them under the covers.

“Will you stay with me?”

“Here?”

“I want you to stay. It makes things less hazy.”

Bucky nodded and moved until he was sitting against the headboard, ankles crossed. She shuffled further down, not quite touching him but definitely close. It was the weirdest moment of her life, lying there next to someone she’d killed for, who’d killed for her, who’d then tried to kill _her_ and now couldn’t recall it. She felt like she’d missed him and now he was here but not complete, not all there.

“ _Spokoynoy nochi, moy malen'kiy soldat_ ,” Natasha murmured.

Bucky’s reply was halfway out before he even thought about it. “ _Spokoynoy nochi, pauk devushka_.”

They both went deathly still, Nat hyper-aware of the sound of her own breathing and the darkness of the room.

“Sorry.” Bucky mumbled.

“I don’t think I’m someone you have to apologise to.”

*****

Natasha’s dreams were one screwed-up ride through almost nine decades of shit, people she knew from completely different countries and eras suddenly in the same rooms. Tony even made an appearance at one point in what looked like the ‘30s. She woke up feeling not a hell of a lot rested but her head was clearer. She had a better grip on how everything fit together.

Which meant she remembered everything. The truly brutal aspects of Red Room that they’d edited out of her fake memories. All the people she’d tortured or killed, innocents, witnesses, people who just happened to cross her at a bad time. Natasha had always thought of her ledger as dripping with red but now Loki’s taunt about it being too much to wipe out was laughably accurate. She could _never_ undo all this.

A voice interrupted her self-reflection. “You okay?”

She looked up at Bucky and nodded. “Yeah. I was just thinking of all the new blood on my hands. Or old blood.”

“It was the job.”

“I know. And it’s not some big surprise that I’ve killed, believe me. It doesn’t make much of a difference to how I see myself. It’s just…more. A lot more,” Nat rolled onto her side, “I’ll adjust. Really the only thing that’s different between my lost memories and my fake ones is you.”

He looked at her searchingly but Nat didn’t want to elaborate. She didn’t want to say too much of anything on the subject actually. She wasn’t sure yet how to feel about the ex-assassin and she certainly didn’t want to influence his feelings before he had all the facts.

“So you remember HYDRA?”

“I remember they used to wipe you.”

“Yeah, I meant to ask about that. I mean, if we worked together you should have noticed I kept forgetting who you were.”

“When they put us on assignment they always told me you’d had emergency procedures and didn’t remember much. I suppose you were in cryo?”

He nodded mutely.

“I think seeing me triggered enough for you to trust me without really knowing why.”

“It must have been strange having to reintroduce yourself every time.”

She frowned. “Never question orders, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought they did what was necessary.  And the periods we were together were long. It wasn’t like we had to start over every few months.”

“So Steve was frozen in the ice. I yo-yoed in and out of cryo. How could you go eighty years in real time and still look this good?”

Natasha smirked. “Good genetics.”

He laughed. “I’ll say.”

“Maybe it’s like Bruce said, whatever they gave me was different. Zola was trying to recreate Erskine’s serum. He had it pretty close by the time he got to you but maybe I got a version that was great with the healing and regeneration but failed at the strength and speed.”

“That would make sense. Guess we lost our chance to ask him.”

“I’m not crying too hard over it,” she got up, heading for her suitcase, “Do you wanna see what the others are up to? Must be dinnertime.”

“Do you remember what they did to you? The modifications?”

She paused, back to him. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled. “It wasn’t your fault. You were half a world away playing catch and chasing girls.”

Bucky made a face. “Now I feel even worse. At least I got a childhood.”

“Don’t. I came to terms with missing out on the normal kid stuff long ago. Well – now it’s even longer,” she smiled wryly, “And trust me, I made up for it later.”

 

Steve wanted nothing more than to be down in the gym punching out his anger at the stuff Nat had said. He knew it wasn’t even a tenth, a hundredth of the crap she’d lived through and yet it was enough to make his head feel too crowded and hot. But he couldn’t go downstairs because Tony and Bruce were playing cards, and since Stark liked to cheat there was a constant threat of a sudden Hulk-out, so Steve was sitting on the couch supervising and wishing he could hit _something_.

“Do you think we should check on her?” he pressed his knuckles together until the skin turned white.

“Relax, Cap. Jarvis will tell us if there’s a problem.” Tony set down an ace.

“She and Bucky seemed, uh, closer.” Bruce scowled at the discard pile and drew again.

“Makes sense. Neither of them have really gone into it with me yet but I figure they worked together.”

“Just worked?” Tony raised a brow.

“What are you sayin’, Stark?”

“Well Natasha’s a very fine young woman. Bucky’s not made of steel – or at least not his important parts. Working in close proximity, dangerous circumstances...it doesn’t take a genius to see that, Rogers.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I really wanna know.”

“Could make this weird with our precious Hawk.”

Bruce frowned at Tony. “You don’t really believe there’s anything going on between Natasha and Barton?”

“Uh, come on. What did I just say about partners getting caught up in the heat of the moment?”

“Well regardless I think Nat has a lot to think about right now,” Steve said, “Her love life is probably at the bottom of that list.”

The elevator opened and Bucky and Nat walked in. She’d changed into a black turtleneck sweater dress and Steve could see how she got her code name in the way she slunk towards them, her hair like a crimson splash against the black.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Better. I’m probably going to need a few trips to a psych but it’s nothing too unusual.”

“So you got them all back?” Bruce stood, obviously itching to examine her.

“Seems like it. I miss things now that I only appreciated before.”

“Such as?” Steve asked.

“Like soul music. I’ve always liked it but now I know it’s because I was around when it came out, and now I wish they played it more.”

“The memories are affecting your personality then. Your likes and dislikes, emotions.” Bruce nodded thoughtfully.

“Isn’t that how personality works, doc? A series of collective memories that tell you who you are and what you enjoy?”

“Plainly put, yes.”

“Alright, enough science,” Tony stood, “Yes I know, I know, those words almost never come out of my mouth but Nat has the rest of her life to stress about the past and be overanalysed. I say we focus on celebrating Bruce’s success with a very tricky problem by getting totally wasted.”

“We can’t-“ Steve started.

“I’m well aware you and Buckster can’t get drunk. Bruce isn’t a drinker either for various green reasons. So you three can order food and play some damn games, and Nat and I will get gloriously trashed. Jarvis?”

 

The AI seemed to read Tony’s mind (and Natasha always did want to know how much of a link there was between the two – did Jarvis read Tony’s brainwaves?) and started a smooth, sassy soul track. She smiled at Tony gratefully and he beckoned, waving her to join him at the bar.

“Vodka?”

“Ugh, no. I spent too long drinking shitty imitation stuff in Third World countries. Give me gin.”

“Alright. This is gonna be so weird, you having all this new firsthand knowledge about the world and history and politics. I’m not used to being outsmarted, Romanov.”

“You’re still a genius, Tony. You’re just younger than me now.”

He poured their drinks, crushing some limes to drop into the tonic. Nat thought back to the first time she’d met Tony and was stunned to find it wasn’t actually the first.

“Anton Vanko.”

“What about him?” the inventor scowled.

“I tried to kill him.”

He slowly set his glass down, raising a brow. “Go on.”

“When he defected to the States they sent me to eliminate him before he could help your father with the arc reactor project. I infiltrated Stark Industries but ultimately my mission was aborted when Vanko was arrested.”

“Jesus, does fuckin’ everyone know my dad?”

She smirked. “Apparently so.”

“I bet the old sleazeball hit on you.”

“It must run in the family. I met you, once.”

“What? I don’t remember-”

“You were about six months old,” she smiled, “Your mother brought you into the office.”

“Oh. Phew, was thinking I’d killed too many brain cells for a minute.”

“You were adorable.” Nat smirked.

“Hey! I think I like this memory thing even less.”

“I’m starting to like it more.” She grinned smugly as she took her glass from him.

“So, you get back any memories of awesome drinking games?”

“A couple spring to mind.”

“Alright! Rogers, clear some space on that coffee table. I think we’re gonna need it.”

“Tony?” she said as he came out from behind the bar.

“What?”

“For what it’s worth, your dad...he lit up when he saw you. Whatever problems you guys had later, he loved you.”

He nodded. “I know. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Now, how good are you at Twister?”

His eyes narrowed. “Probably not as good as you. Why?”

“You wanted drinking games, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little exchange in Russian between Nat and Bucky translates (via Google) as:
> 
> "Goodnight, my little soldier."  
> "Goodnight, spider girl."


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha thanked God for genetically enhanced healing as she surveyed the wreckage of the penthouse living room. There were empty bottles everywhere, literally everywhere – on top of cupboards, crammed together over the entire coffee table, stuffed between the couch cushions and rolling around on the carpet. Tony was passed out on the couch, arms wrapped around himself. Bruce wasn’t up yet and if she knew Steve and Bucky, they’d be in the gym. She poured herself a glass of juice and headed out onto the balcony, pulling out her phone.

“Hey Tash. How’s things in the Big Apple?”

She decided not to tiptoe around it. “Bruce got my memories back.”

“Okay.” Clint sounded uncertain, restrained.

“I want to see you.”

“I’ll get on a plane now.”

“We’re at the Tower.”

“I’ll be there – eight hours, max.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s what partners are for, right?”

Natasha hung up, resting the corner of the device against her lip as she looked out over the city. It was early but New York was already humming, horns beeping and news choppers passing with a thump of their blades. She knew this New York, and she knew it years ago. It was a good city, better than most she’d been to even if it wasn’t quite as beautiful.

She decided she needed a distraction so she didn’t spend the next eight hours waiting for Clint. Nat took the elevator down to the gym. Steve was challenging the limits of Tony’s rowing machine while Bucky tossed knives at a target on the wall. She wandered over slowly so she wouldn’t interrupt, admiring his aim.

“Hey.” He said, eyes still on the target.

“Good morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Fine. I think I was too drunk to dream.”

“You were pretty gone,” Bucky grinned, “I have this amazing mental image of Tony failing hard at Twister. If I can get my hands on the real image...”

“I could ask Jarvis for a copy.” She smiled.

“You really are evil.” He threw again.

“Do you wanna spar?”

Bucky’s eyes widened as they darted to her. “What?”

“Spar. Unarmed, I think. I could use the exercise.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?”

“Because the last time we fought-”

“You weren’t you. I’m not bearing a grudge. Come on, please?”

He sighed, looking away. “Fine. We’ll go a few rounds but if it brings up too much for me I’m taggin’ out.”

“Agreed.”

 

They made their way to the mats, Natasha shaking out her shoulders, and Bucky took a deep breath. This was a stupid, stupid idea. They didn’t know for sure all his programming was gone. What if he suddenly thought she was an enemy? A target? What if it was still lying latent in his head for just this moment-

“Stop thinking so much.” She chided, reaching down to touch her toes.

“It’s a side effect of having your brain played with. Makes you doubt yourself.”

“Well stop. I can handle you, and Steve’s here just in case. Iron Man may be currently passed out but his security system is not, and Dr Banner’s mean streak is all kinds of wide. So don’t worry about it.”

Bucky sighed but faced her, hands clenched at his sides. Nat scanned him as if looking for a weakness and he frowned.

“I feel like you have the advantage here.”

“One minute you think you’re going to hurt me and the next I have the advantage? Make up your mind, Barnes.”

He set his jaw but his eyes were full of mischief. Bucky cracked his knuckles. “You ready?”

“Stop stalling, scaredy-cat.”

His arm shot forwards in a punch that should have levelled her but Nat ducked to the side, putting her foot in his knee. Bucky swung to compensate and blocked her follow-up hit on his bionic arm, Nat wincing at the contact.

“Uh, guys?” Steve frowned.

Neither one of them paid him any attention, hands flying around their heads while they dodged and blocked. Nat kneed him in the gut and Bucky growled, shoving her shoulders so hard she flew across the mat. The redhead landed and rolled backwards, springing to her feet.

They fell into a rhythm unthinkingly, anticipating each other’s movements ahead of time, and Bucky wasn’t sure if it was because they were both trained to do it or because they knew each other’s style intimately. He focused on watching for the blisteringly fast attacks and jumping out of range when she got her legs involved. He wasn’t interested in another kick to the joints.

He reached for her wrist and Nat twirled away, swinging around his back to flatten him. He rolled, easily shaking her off, but there was a click in his brain like someone had thrown a switch and he could remember her using the same move one summer in Bulgaria. He was dazed for a moment, enough that she got an elbow into his diaphragm before he recovered. Bucky groaned and pushed her, sending the woman tumbling across the room.

He hauled himself to his feet and went after her, Nat squirming out of the way. He could spot them now, moves he’d only ever seen from the outside.

“I think I prefer it when you beat up other people.” He smiled, catching her next blow and wrenching her arm back.

 

Nat smiled and jumped up, wrapping her legs around his neck and twisting so they both fell. She swung a knee up but he heaved her over, his metal hand pinning her down at the waist as his other caught her wrists and pressed them to the mat above her head. The grip on her stomach was unshakeable, stronger than his own enhanced muscles. She couldn’t move, his thighs keeping her legs flat as he straddled her.

“Yield?” Bucky panted, eyes scanning her face.

“When do I ever give up on a fight?”

He was so close she could almost feel it as he licked his lip, the rush of breath warm on her cheek. “Maybe now’s a good time to start.”

“I don’t think so.”

She jerked her head up, intending to smash him in the nose, but Bucky moved out of reach. They both paused, lips almost touching as they stared at each other. Natasha wondered what would happen if she closed that distance. Would he remember?

There was a clunk of machinery and she realised she’d completely forgotten they had an audience. Even if Steve kept his thoughts to himself Jarvis wouldn’t shield them from Tony’s snickering.

“I yield.”

Bucky immediately backed off, looking as disturbed as her. “Good match.”

“Yeah.”

He stood and offered a hand to help her up but she ignored it.

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be.” He grimaced.

She threw Steve a nod as she passed, carefully avoiding the question in his gaze and took the elevator back to her room.

Nat stood under the shower longer than she should, thinking about the almost kiss. The hand-shaped bruise on her waist was already disappearing, almost as if the water washed it away. The fight had felt perfect, like two cogs moving together, meshing exactly the way they were made. It was almost rehearsed in its ease. She wondered what it would be like if they actually danced and then she didn’t have to wonder because her mind supplied her with a waltz at the Korean embassy, Bucky’s hand strong on her hip, her eyes sweeping the room for their mark. He was light on his feet for such a big man, she remembered that much.

When she got out and dressed Natasha felt a pull towards Bucky, a need to find him and just be around each other. That probably wasn’t healthy. She checked the clock. There were still six and half hours until Clint arrived. What could she do to kill the time that wasn’t following Bucky around like a creep?

The problem was she had all these complicated feelings for the Winter Soldier that she hadn’t really compared to the man he currently was, and which he didn’t necessarily share. Maybe he would once he had all his memories but it was a gamble, and until then it was a one-sided thing. She hated being on the losing end of that.

 

“Mind if I intrude?”

Bruce looked up and smiled, a touch hesitant. She didn’t take it personally. The doctor just wasn’t used to people seeking out his company.

“Sure,” he waved her into the lab, “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how everything’s going here. I’m amazed living with Tony hasn’t driven you crazy yet.”

“Can’t make me any more insane than I already am, right? It’s great though, having all these resources I could never have accessed before.”

“Yeah. This place is like a nerd’s wet dream.”

He looked flustered, reorganising his papers. “I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t know. I mean-”

“I get it.”

“So,” he looked at her sidelong, “Um, I know you’re here to chat but do you mind if I do a quick scan or two? Ask some questions?”

“Go for it.”

Bruce lit up with that scientific curiosity that always got him into trouble, hurrying to do his tests. He asked her to tell him as much as she wanted to share, writing it all down in a mock timeline, making notes in the margins whenever she said something was particularly clear or fuzzy. In between she filled him in on what had happened at the Triskelion and the helicarriers and all the HYDRA shit she was beginning to understand from the other side.

“Typical,” he shook his head, “I escape Ross only to get picked up by a secret morally ambiguous organisation, only to find they’re actually evil the whole time.”

“Maybe you should start your own agency,” she grinned, “Screen your applicants personally.”

“Ya think?” he smiled.

“Yeah. Between you and Tony you could make a good go of it. SHIELD Mark 2 – all the best bits, no flaws.”

“I think agencies that encourage and deal mostly in secrets are always bound to be flawed, Tash.”

She grimaced. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as ethical espionage, Bruce.”

“Maybe not but we don’t need to get mixed up in their shit. From now on I am staying as far away from all military-based operations as possible.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I remember things now that might be relevant to hunting down the last of HYDRA. I’m sure whatever remains of SHIELD needs help with the clean-up.”

“You really wanna go back to them?” he raised his brows.

“I want to wipe those smug snake-worshipping assholes off the face of the Earth.”

He smiled. “Ah. That’s much more understandable. Steve will probably jump at the chance to help you.”

“Maybe Bucky too?”

“Maybe.” The look he gave her was too astute for her liking, and Nat quickly changed the subject.

 

She spent another hour with Bruce enjoying the quiet, easy way he told stories, even self-deprecating ones. After that she found Tony in his workshop and pestered him until he agreed to go out for lunch. Lunch turned into shopping, because apparently he hadn’t repaid her enough for her role in stopping Insight blowing his head off, and by the time they got back to the Tower she had some very nice new guns, about twenty outfits and there were only forty-five minutes until Clint was supposed to show.

So of course when she walked into her room he was already there.

“Hey Tasha.”

She took a huge breath, smiling without even thinking about it. “Clint.”

The archer smirked. “Miss me?”

She dropped her bags and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. Clint raised his hands helplessly and then stroked her back, letting her cling to him.

“Hey Red. How’s it goin’?”

“It sucks, Hawk.” She sniffed, pulling back so she could see his face.

“I can tell. You wanna give me the rundown?”

She nodded. He led her to the bed and sat cross-legged, the redhead copying, and then she started to talk.

*****

When she told him all of it, from the Lemurian Star to the drunken Twister, from 1928 to 2014, Nat sat back and waited.

“Well.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Natasha laughed. She couldn’t help it; Clint’s face was just too perfect. “You can say that again.”

“And I thought I had problems.”

“Do I get some kind of medal for most issues over a single lifetime?”

He leaned forward. “Are you okay though? Seriously. Even like, 0.05% of that story is enough to send most people to therapy.”

“I don’t know how I feel. About anything. It’s all still clicking into place.”

“Okay, here’s a question you _can_ answer. How satisfying was it kicking Sitwell off that building?”

She grinned. “It was better than the best orgasm you’ve ever had. It was better than the most perfect shot.”

“Goddamn it!” he beamed, “You get all the fun.”

“Sorry. I would have saved you a piece but someone else got there first.”

“Speaking of him, you gonna introduce me?”

“Uh, sure. You two should get along like crazy. You’re both too chipper for your own damn good.”

“The Bucky in your story doesn’t strike me as ‘chipper’.”

“He wasn’t then. But neither was I.”

“You’re not now.”

She threw a pillow at him and he rolled backwards off the bed, dodging it. He gave her a typical smug Clint smile and Natasha shook her head, standing. “I’m not helping you up.”

He flipped to his feet, just to make a point, and opened the door for her. “My lady?”

“You cut that shit out or I’ll tase you.”

“Amazingly? You’re not the first woman to say that to me.”

“I’m shocked. Jarvis, where are the others?”

“Sir is in the workshop, completing what he referred to as work you ‘rudely interrupted’. Dr Banner is meditating in his room. Captain Rogers is on the balcony sketching and Sergeant Barnes is experimenting with Sir’s bar.”

“He can’t get drunk.” Nat said, baffled.

“He is taste-testing various cocktails, I believe.”

“I like this guy already.” Clint rubbed his hands together.

“Do _not_ try to outdrink anyone in this tower.” Nat warned as they got in the elevator.

“Why do you want to just ruin everything, party pooper?”

“Because Steve and Bucky can’t get drunk, Bruce doesn’t drink, Tony is a seasoned alcoholic and we’ve already seen what happens when you try to beat me.”

“Fuck. This is so unfair. When do I get my genetic upgrades?”

She grimaced. “If you’re lucky, never.”

 

They found Bucky behind the bar, wearing an Iron Man apron over loose black pants and nothing else. His silver arm shone in the afternoon light coming through the huge glass windows, the scratches at the top more obvious. He was humming what sounded like an old army march but he stopped when he noticed them, cocktail shaker still in hand.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Hawkeye.”

“Winter Soldier.” He said wryly.

Clint walked closer, offering his hand. “Clint.”

“Bucky.” He shook it warmly.

“Quite an appendage you got there.”

“Clint!” Nat rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I never disregard a compliment. What’s your thing, Clint?”

“I’m sure Nat’s already told you everything there is to know about me.”

“She respects other people’s privacy.”

Clint glanced at her as he leaned on the counter. “Yeah, she’s good like that. I’m a marksman.”

“Rifles?”

“Bow, usually.”

“Impressive.”

“What about you?”

“Rifles,” he smiled, “I learned to use them during the war and they’ve stuck with me.”

“Cleaning out Tony’s liquor cabinet?”

“I think that would be almost impossible. Does he own a distillery somewhere?”

“Probably.”

“Thought I’d try my hand at bartending. Might come in handy eventually, and even if they don’t affect me they’re still delicious.”

“You’ve got the reflexes for the fancy tricks. If you’re not careful Tony might try to hire you.” Nat smirked.

“I happily volunteer myself as guinea pig.” Clint tapped the marble.

“What’s your poison?”

“Taking a gamble. Invent something.”

The ex-soldier cackled. “You sound like Steve.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Back when we were ‘Captain America and the Howling Commandos’ he was all about the daring deeds and risky manoeuvres. They usually worked too.”

“I suppose I should go say hi.” Clint glanced outside.

“Nah, leave him be. He’ll come in when he’s finished. Tash, you drinkin’?”

The archer gave her a subtle look at the nickname and she ignored him. “Sure. I’ll have-”

“Gin martini.”

“Yeah.” she blinked.

“It was always your favourite.” Bucky muttered, reaching for the bottle.

“I’m surprised you took the time to notice.”

He straightened, giving her a dubious look. “Assassin and special ops soldier, remember? Attention to detail is very important.”

Clint snickered. “Oh wow, I like this. Another person who can give you shit and get away with it.”

“I wouldn’t say I get away with it,” Bucky grinned lopsidedly, “So Clint, are you more into bourbon or rum?”

 

Tony, as if drawn from the workshop by the siren song of good booze, showed up about the same time Steve came inside.

“Barton,” the billionaire winked at him, “I’ve missed your scruffy head around here.”

“Offer me a salary and I’ll happily set up shop.”

“As what, court jester? Watcha makin’ there, Studly?” he leaned over the bar to examine the contents of Bucky’s shaker.

“I call it a Long, Cold Winter.” he smirked.

“Then you’ll have to rename your junk.”

“Tony.” Steve groaned.

“What, valid statement! Throw some Winter my way – the drink, soldier. I’m spoken for.”

“Good to see you, Clint.” Steve shook his hand.

“And you, Cap. Tash told me what happen in DC. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“We survived.” He smiled.

“Still, I always seem to miss the excitement.”

“Trust me Hawk, this excitement I could have lived without.” Nat took a sip of her drink.

“You weren’t the only one who didn’t get a chance to help.” Tony glowered.

Steve sighed. “We’ve discussed this, Tony. I barely had time to breathe, let alone call you, even if I could have done it securely.”

“It’s over,” Natasha said firmly, “We’re moving on. Yes?”

“Fine.” Stark huffed.

Bucky finished the cocktail and poured two, pushing them towards Clint and Tony. Stark took a swig and smiled.

“You’re in the wrong profession, Barnes.”

“See?” Nat arched a brow, “I warned you.”

“Warned me what?”

“Nat said you’d want to keep Bucky on as hired help if he was too good.”

“Hell yeah! Ex-KGB behind the bar, ex-SHIELD to keep me company,” he gestured at Clint, “I’ll be the most pampered, safest billionaire in America.”

“It would certainly stop competitors trying to fuck with you.” Nat popped her olive in her mouth.

“What competitors?” Tony laughed, “Hammer’s in jail, Killian’s dead. SHIELD just got mightily disbanded. I’m the toast of the capital right now.”

“Aren’t they investigating Stark Industries?” Steve pointed out.

“All for appearances,” Tony shook his head, “They need me and they know it. Same could be said for all of you. Specialist agents are in high demand right now.”

Steve glanced at the group. “I think I can safely speak for everyone when I say we’re not interested.”

Clint chuckled darkly. “Amen to that.”

 

It was a very bizarre night. Bruce came up from his apartment in time for dinner, the group sprawling over the couches and chatting animatedly. Nat sat between Clint and Bucky on the long sofa, laughing at the archer’s jokes which he delivered only a fraction slower than Tony, the two keeping up a furious banter over their drinks. Steve was content to let them go for it, contributing the odd snappy line here and there. Bucky seemed comfortable joining in the teasing, his own wit quick enough to give them a good challenge.

But more than that, Nat felt safe between them. She trusted every man in that room, which was new and strange enough for her, but she’d do anything for Clint and she was starting to feel the same about Bucky. It was an accumulation of all the times he’d saved her ass. Natasha didn’t like owing people and she owed them both, even if Bucky didn’t know it and Clint would never acknowledge it.

“So how long are you crashing in my spare rooms?” Tony asked.

Steve and Natasha exchanged a look. “I don’t know. We only came to see Bruce but it’s not like there’s anything waiting back in Washington. What do you think, Buck?”

“I don’t have any place to be.”

“You’re all staying then!” Stark beamed.

Nat pursed her lips. “Tony, we haven’t discussed it-”

“It’s too late. I’m adopting you.”

“Sweet,” Clint smirked, “Do I get a trust fund?”

“Let me check with Pep. She handles all that boring money stuff.”

“Only you would call money boring, Tony.” Steve shook his head.

“No but seriously, you guys are welcome to set up house. I’ll give you your own floors, you can decorate. It’s pointless having all these empty rooms anyway.”

“Are you assembling your own Avengers, Tony?” Nat curled her lip.

“What if I was, Tasha? I could be the next Fury. All I need is an eye patch and a long coat.”

Clint pressed his lips together. “One Fury in the world is more than enough.”

“I’ll stay. For now.” Nat said firmly.

“I’m gonna talk to Pepper before I agree to anything.” Clint smiled with as much cheek as he could muster.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Knock yourself out, Barton. Even I can’t win a negotiation with her.”

“Well duh,” he snorted, “That’s totally why you’re into her.”

Stark laughed and looked down, rocking one foot on its heel. “I’m more than into her.”

“If this is about to get explicit, I’ll bid you goodnight.” Bruce made to stand.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”

The doctor raised his brows and sat down again.

“Wow,” Steve shook his head, “That’s amazing, Tony.”

“Yeah well, after the almost headshot I had a think about things. Seemed to be a good idea.” he kept his eyes on his drink casually.

“Nah, I think it’s a great idea. I’m happy for you, rich boy.” Clint slapped his knee.

“Sergeant,” Nat smiled, “I think this calls for more drinks.”

Bucky snapped off a salute. “Yes ma’am!”

 

They toasted Tony’s pending engagement until the man got drunk enough to start composing sonnets about Pepper’s freckles. Bruce bundled him off to bed and the others headed down to their floor. Steve broke off the second they got there, heading for the kitchen. Nat thought she ought to get some sleep too; the more the better until she was used to the new wiring in her brain.

“So, I take it you’re staying with Tash.”

She glanced up sharply at Bucky’s question. There was no accusation in his tone but his eyes were fixed hard on Clint.

“Nah, Jarvis set me up with a spot down the back with a great view. I like that sort of thing.”

“I don’t really do heights so well anymore.”

Clint nodded. “I get that. Night, soldier.”

Bucky shook his hand. “Night, Hawk.”

He squeezed Nat’s arm. “Night, Tash.”

“Goodnight. Try to get some sleep or you’ll have jet lag.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me, hotshot. I’ve done this a million times.”

He continued down the hall and she shifted her gaze to Bucky. “Why did you ask that?”

He raised his brows and gave an exaggerated shrug. “Just being friendly.”

Her response was a withering look and he sighed.

“I don’t know, old instincts maybe. Wanting to know where people are.”

It made sense but she didn’t quite believe it. And oddly, she wanted him to say it was about her. That he was jealous, or testing the waters. She wanted some sign he felt as protective of her as he used to.

“The Tower’s fairly safe with the AI keeping an eye on things.”

“Forgive me if I don’t like to rely on outside forces to watch my back.”

“I’m watching it.” She said quietly.

Bucky smiled. “I know. Goodnight, Natalia.”

He headed for his room and she hugged herself, not relishing the idea of sleeping alone. It was too quiet with only her breathing to break the dark. Nat had a crazy thought of following Bucky, just letting herself into his bed. But he hadn’t asked and an almost-kiss was not an invite.

She could go to Clint but there was a distance there, like having her memories had reduced his significance. She still loved him dearly but she’d only known him just under a decade; his impact on her was lessened by her sudden increase in age. He was an important part but a much smaller one. And she didn’t want that comfort from him right now, not until she knew how it all sat.

She could hear Steve coming back and hurried to her room. Maybe alone was better.

Then why was she still confused?

*****

Clint joined them in the gym the next morning, whistling when he saw it.

“Stark doesn’t do anything by halves, huh?”

“He can afford it.” Steve shrugged, putting his earphones in as he headed for his favourite treadmill. Nat was definitely getting concerned about that thing now. He’d probably put a hundred miles on it in the last few days.

She found an open corner of the mat and started her exercises. Her body knew the patterns automatically, allowing her mind to wander. She watched Clint as he ran a hand over the rack of throwing weapons by Tony’s target, quirking a brow at the quality.

“You like the knives?” Bucky asked him.

“Second favourite projectile in the world. I learned them first, always had a bit of a fondness for the things.”

“Wanna show me?”

Clint’s lip twitched. “You asking for a demonstration?”

Bucky smirked. “Not exactly. Just curious.”

Clint picked up a blade, feeling its weight for a second. He tossed it end over end, catching it again without even looking. “Okay. Might wanna stand clear.”

He walked across the gym to the far wall, nodding to Nat as he passed. The archer stopped an inch from the wall and cracked his neck, breathing out slowly. Then in one smooth motion almost too fast to follow, he spun and threw. The knife spun without swerving, sinking into the bull’s-eye forty feet away.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning in to examine the blow. “Very nice.”

“Nice?” Clint snorted.

“For a normal person, yeah.”

Barton’s brows shot up. “Really.”

“I mean for someone with no enhancements it’s impressive.”

“Oh, I see where this is goin’. You think you can do better?”

“Clint…” Nat said warningly.

“It’s okay,” Bucky smiled, “Nothing wrong with friendly competition.”

“Yeah. We’re just sharing trade secrets, right?”

The brunette picked up a small throwing star and nodded. “All in fun.”

He walked to Clint’s spot against the wall and eyed the target critically, tilting his head. He glanced at the machinery around them and moved closer to Steve.

“Might wanna stand clear.” He smirked, and threw in a line perpendicular to the far wall.

The star hit the side of an upper body resistance machine and ricocheted off, hitting the hilt of Clint’s knife dead centre.

“Holy fuckin’ shit. You _are_ good.” Clint laughed.

“You’re not giving up on me yet, are you Barton?”

“Hell no. Let’s find somewhere bigger than this place.”

 

Nat didn’t like having them out of sight, getting up to all kinds of potential mischief with their stupid contest. Steve didn’t look too happy about it either, though his concern was probably more for Tony’s walls. But she wasn’t foolish enough to think she could control either of them, so she went through the rest of her workout and tried not to obsess about it.

Natasha showered and dressed and then decided she should really make sure Clint and Bucky hadn’t killed each other. It was definitely not because she wanted to see the soldier. Definitely only pure, friendly intentions.

Yeah, she didn’t even believe herself.

“Jarvis, where are Clint and Bucky?”

“In sir’s test range.”

“Where’s that?”

“The level below his workshop. I can direct you, Miss Romanov.”

“Thanks.”

She took the elevator, letting Jarvis guide it to the right floor. As soon as she stepped in her brows shot up. The walls were very thickly reinforced with what looked like shock absorption and soundproofing measures. A solid metal wall sealed off the room with a thick glass window in the middle. She peered through and saw multiple targets at various distances. The furthest was on the other side of the tower. Bucky and Clint stood nearby, comparing knives by the looks of it. She tried the door but it didn’t budge.

“Hey.” Nat tapped on the glass.

Clint looked up and grinned, quickly opening it for her. “Hey!”

“How did you find this place?” she looked around as she stepped inside.

“Jarvis suggested it. Apparently it’s where Tony tries out all his new, potentially unstable tech.”

“So it can take a beating from you and Bucky. Better than wrecking the penthouse, I suppose.”

“I don’t think Tony cares much either way. He could afford to build a whole new tower if he had to.” Barnes smirked.

“So how’s the competition?” she peered down range at the targets.

“Buck’s winning.” Clint pouted.

“By this much.” The ex-assassin held his fingers a micrometre apart.

“He’s got the advanced senses. My eyesight’s good but I can’t compete with that. You two should try against each other; might be a fairer fight.”

She smiled. “We already have.”

He frowned. “Huh?”

Natasha caught Bucky’s gaze. “Istanbul?”

The brunette looked confused for a moment as he thought. Then he laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call that a contest.”

“I would.”

“Of course you would – you won.”

They both chuckled and Clint looked between them, arching a brow. “And for the people who weren’t actually there...”

Nat straightened. “Istanbul, 1982. Some idiot spooked our mark and we ended up on a chase through the damn markets.”

“I don’t remember the details, I just remember us both throwing knives until one hit him.”

“What was the distance?” Clint asked with clear interest.

“300 feet.”

“300!” he gaped, “What the hell, Nat? I mean I’ve seen you make some incredible shots but that’s fucking insane.”

“Yeah, well I almost had him before your throw.”

“Almost doesn’t get you commendations, soldier.”

They smiled at each other and Clint stifled a giggle in his fist, quickly turning it into a cough.

“So, plans for the day?”

 

“I don’t know. I was thinking I’d go out for awhile. Maybe visit some old contacts, see if they’ve got anything to say.”

“You mean you wanna go to that sweet little Russian place in Queens. I’m down with that.” Clint winked.

“I’m going to the hospital. Bruce talked me into getting another scan. He thinks I should be at about 72% by now.”

Natasha made a noise of approval. The truth was, 72% or not Bucky felt like he was _so close_. The last few memories were the only thing standing between him and full linear recall, and he could almost touch them. It was like they were there as silhouettes, foggy outlines.

“Do you want us to come?” she asked stiffly.

“No, I think I’ll be okay. You and Clint should go to Queens and have fun.”

“Sure.”

“We’ll bring you back some _pastila_.” The archer waved a hand.

“You’re a pal.”

“Get dressed,” Nat opened the door, “I wanna borrow one of Tony’s cars for the trip while he’s still out of it.”

“Hells yeah!” Clint bounded past her to the elevator.

“I’ll run interference for you if he notices it’s gone.” Bucky smirked.

“Thanks. Have fun with your scan.”

“Have fun with your Russians.”

She smiled tightly and stepped out, telling herself she would be fine. She had Clint for company; she didn’t need the old soldier too.

 

“So Istanbul, huh?” Clint said once she was behind the wheel of Tony’s McLaren.

“Yeah.” Nat glanced at him sidelong, not sure where this conversation was going.

“I bet you’ve been literally everywhere by now.”

“Pretty damn close.” She grimaced.

“Is it okay to say I’m jealous? I mean, I know there’s horrible, horrible shit attached to the travelling, but is it okay?”

“You’re not exactly a stay-at-home guy yourself.” She snorted.

“Yeah but think about it, Nat. You heard the rock stars of Woodstock on the radio – and it was new. You were there when stuff I think of as history was actually going down, and scary, and could affect you.”

“I was helping cause it, Barton. It didn’t scare me.”

“Well whatever, it’s still stupidly cool, okay?”

Nat sighed. “I guess.”

“And what’s the deal with you never aging? Are you immortal or some shit? Doomed to be vampirically good-looking for all time?”

“I dunno.”

“Cos sweet deal, man.”

She rolled her eyes. “Trust you to come here when I’m having a major life-changing moment and make it all about the super powers, Clint.”

“Someone has to focus on the positives.”

“If you like the idea so much, I’m sure I can find someone from HYDRA to play around with _your_ DNA.”

“Uh, pass on that, actually. I’m good.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

“So, come on. Who’s the most famous person you’ve banged?”

“Ugh, Barton!”

“Or killed, I’m not picky.”

“Do I ask you about your targets?”

“No, but mine are boring. Arms dealers and human traffickers and ambitious mad scientists. Yours are actual world leaders, aren’t they?”

She huffed and bit her lip, focusing on the traffic. “I don’t know if you can keep yourself from running your mouth off about it.”

“Oh please! Come on, Tash. I’m the best at secrets.”

“No you’re not.”

 

They reached the cafe and Nat parked, slightly worried about leaving Tony’s car on the sidewalk. Still, she was a professional spy and assassin. She could handle an attempted car thief.

They headed inside, Clint’s mouth already watering at the scent of pastry and sweet fruit. It was the chintziest, most gingham-clad restaurant he’d ever seen, absolutely tiny with a few round tables and a long counter showing various cakes and desserts. The old man behind the counter looked about eighty, the skin of his neck very loose and his hair solid white. He was wearing an apron and smoking, health restrictions be damned.

“Oleg.”

“Natalia!” he stood, breaking into a huge smile. Nat returned it as he hobbled around the counter, throwing his arms wide. She hugged the little man and waved at Clint.

“You remember my friend?”

“Yes, yes, the one who likes the blini.”

“That’s me.”

“It has been a long time since we’ve seen you, _moy dorogoy_. You don’t like old Oleg anymore?”

“They keep me busy. I’m staying in the city for awhile, so I’ll stop by and see you as much as possible to make up for it, yes?”

“Yes, yes. Sit down and I will make us some coffee. You want something to eat?”

“Thank you.”

She and Clint moved to a table as Oleg hurried off to make their drinks. She watched him almost wistfully until Clint kicked her under the table.

“What?”

“I was gonna ask you the same question. I mean Oleg’s great but you’re staring at him like your long-lost grandfather.”

She pursed her lips and leaned in, speaking so softly he had to strain to hear it. “I didn’t meet Oleg in 2001.”

“No?” Clint glanced at the old man again.

“No. Before he and his wife emigrated, he was a freedom fighter. We worked together on a mission in Afghanistan in 1979.”

“No fuckin’ way. Sweet little Oleg?”

“It’s why he’s such a valuable contact. He keeps in touch with some of his old associates. Of course I didn’t know that the second time I met him.”

“But he never recognised you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I look familiar but he’s never said anything. It probably made him trust me more than he should.”

“Anyone else like that we should watch out for?”

She thought over her current contacts and winced. “Uh, one.”

“One?”

“Maybe. I don’t know if he’d even remember...but I once won a card game against the Secretary of State.”

Clint laughed. “Nice. I suddenly feel a bit too ordinary to be counted as one of your acquaintances.”

Natasha smiled. “You’re not ordinary, Barton. And they sure as hell aren’t the people I wanna be acquainted with."

*****

Bucky hovered anxiously behind Bruce as the doctor examined the latest scan. He didn’t want to pester him but he couldn’t help being curious, and maybe a little excited. Painful as some of them were, having his memories was way better than not.

“So? How’s it look, doc?”

“Good,” Bruce nodded slowly, “Very good. You’re advancing even faster than I thought.”

“Yeah? You got a number for it?”

“Maybe 88%?”

“Wow. So I should be at full in...”

“A day, maybe. Even a few hours.”

“Huh.” Bucky exhaled. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Bruce watched him carefully over the top of his glasses. “Maybe this would be a good time to find you a shrink. We can bring someone to the Tower, do extensive sessions with both you and Natasha.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure I want to share this stuff with a stranger.”

“Well I’m not a qualified psych. Too many problems of my own to deal with other people’s,” he smiled, “And it’s not good to keep things bottled up, believe me.”

Bucky shrugged. If he wanted to talk to someone, he’d talk to Steve. He’d talk to Nat. They both knew what he was going through better than anyone else on the planet.

Bruce started packing away the portable scanner and Bucky swung his arms at his sides. “I’m gonna veg out a bit, I think. Watch something. Do you wanna join?”

“Uh, sure. Give me a minute here and I’ll come find you.”

“I’ll be in the penthouse monopolising Tony’s big screen.”

He made his way there and grabbed an armful of snacks from the kitchen before claiming the couch, placing the food within easy reach.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, sergeant?”

“Can you recommend something?”

There was a pause. “What sort of thing were you looking for, sir?”

Bucky tipped his head back. “Something with no guns or explosions.”

“We have a selection of romantic comedies, if you like.”

“No way.”

“Animated features then?”

He snickered. “Sure, why the hell not?”

 

When Natasha walked into the penthouse lounge room with her box of _pastila_ , it was to find Bucky and Bruce on the couch watching – of all things – The Emperor’s New Groove. She stared at the two of them for a moment, slowly frowning.

“Did someone replace you with Life Model Decoys while I was gone?”

“Tash!” Bucky beamed, “Come watch. This llama is fuckin’ hilarious.”

“Uh, yeah. You haven’t been brainwashed again, have you?”

His smile stiffened and she immediately felt like an asshole, coming to sit next to him.

“Sorry. Have an apology sweet.”

He opened the offered box and took out one of the sticky paste rectangles, smiling. “All is forgiven.”

She watched the movie for a few more seconds and shook her head. Apparently the Hulk’s love of Disney was contagious.

“How was your excursion?”

She shrugged. “Bit weird. But Oleg’s lovely. I swear he tries to fatten me up every time I go over there.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Super metabolisms are great for staying in shape.” She smiled thinly, leaning back and crossing her legs, feet resting on the coffee table with a rustle as she pushed one of the empty popcorn bags off.

The image that popped into his head seemed to come from nowhere, disconnected completely from his surroundings. It was just a pair of red boots, sitting neatly by a doorway. That was it.

But with a rush Bucky knew exactly whose boots they were, and when, and where. He sat back with a gasp as all the pieces lined up and meshed in relation to each other, his memories that had been floating around with no order or context putting themselves in line. He thought back to the war and he remembered being captured, Zola’s experiments, Steve’s rescue. He remembered the train and holding the shield and falling. He remembered endless pain and more experiments and being wiped the first time, his training, his missions, all the way up to Washington.

He remembered Nat. More than just the way she looked sneaking over roof tops or aiming her gun, more than just snatched moments of intimacy and desire. He remembered exactly who she was and how he’d known her forever, longer than Steve technically if you counted time spent together. She was Black Widow, his counterpart. She seduced and he killed and they were both deadly, focused, precise.

He glanced at her, hands shaking slightly in his lap. It was like everything in the room had zoomed in to just the glow of the TV on her face, the light following the curves of her profile in the darkened room. Bucky wasn’t sure how to even start processing all the new thoughts in his head. He stumbled to his feet.

“Bucky?” she frowned.

“I don’t feel great. I think I’m gonna lie down.”

“You okay?” Bruce sat up.

“Yeah, I just...remembered. Enough to throw me.”

The doctor seemed curious but looked like he knew better than to pry, posture relaxing. It was Nat’s eyes that followed him as he made his way to the door, their familiar gaze burning a hole in his skull.

 

It shouldn’t have been surprising that he’d only been in his room half an hour when someone knocked. Bucky curled his fists tighter in the pillow under his head.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

Of course it was. He could smell her through the door, knew the sound of her breathing. Bucky cleared his throat subtly. “Come in.”

Natasha opened the door and stepped in, hesitating for a second before closing it behind her. “How do you feel?”

“Like everything makes sense and I wish it didn’t. Fun, huh?”

Her face changed, a flash of panic appearing before she shoved it away, and it was only with concern that she looked at him as she came closer. “Everything?”

“Yeah. I got it all back. Or enough that the last remnants don’t matter.”

“Oh.” She turned her head away.

Bucky took in the way she was holding herself and his brain automatically supplied an explanation. Her muscles were tense, her face carefully calm in an expression he’d seen a thousand times. She was hiding something. But he knew her too well to fall for the vacant act. And if she remembered what he did...well he had a fair idea what she was avoiding.

“It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

“Yeah.”

“I have to sort through things and see how they fit.”

He saw the glimmer of interest (and hope?) in her eyes as she looked at him again. Yep, awkwardness only too clear. Nat had to feel the same way he did, a yearning for a familiar person amongst all the chaos in his head, but time had passed and they were different and no one was quite sure where the boundaries were anymore.

“Will you stay with me?”

“Of course. You did it for me when I got my memories back.”

“That’s not why I’m asking.”

Natasha’s gaze narrowed.

“You make me feel more grounded.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.”

“It’s true though.”

Natasha nodded and he shuffled over, lying on his side. She curled up on the mattress facing him, hands under her cheek. Bucky closed his eyes with a sigh. It was better now. Everything would be alright.

 

He actually did manage to fall asleep, lulled by the soft sounds of their breathing. Bucky’s dreams seemer sharper than usual, the faces more distinct, the places coming with a sense of heat or cold or smell. He didn’t remember any of them when he woke up.

He did notice two things right away though:  1) he felt incredibly rested, his head straight for the first time in weeks, and 2) Natasha was watching him silently. Bucky blinked, trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep faster.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Bit hungry.”

“I’ll make something.” She sat up.

“I didn’t think you’d stay once I passed out.”

The redhead raised a brow at him. “You asked me to.”

“Yeah but it must have been boring.”

“Less than you’d think.”

She disappeared and left him to pull himself up, rubbing his face in his hands. He needed to shave. Bucky got out of bed and pulled off his jumper, tossing it in the laundry basket. He reached for another and paused. It was too hot for sleeves really, and Natasha had never cared about his arm. He left it bare and headed for the kitchen.

She was tending to a boiling pot, checking the temperature. He glanced at the counter and found a chopping board and a knife, dicing the onions without being asked.

“I’m making-”

“ _Lapsha_.” He said.

“Yeah.” She looked at him with a little surprise.

“It’s your go-to easy dish.”

Nat pressed her lips together. “I didn’t expect you to remember that.”

“You made it enough times. I prefer it to that cabbage crap.”

She threw the noodles into the pot and came back, scooping his chopped onions into her palms as he started on the rest of the vegetables. They moved like dancers, orbiting around each other as they divided up the recipe between them without even discussing it. Bucky sliced quickly, the blade flashing in his hand. Nat stirred and added spices and adjusted the temperature in miniscule degrees until it was perfect. Bucky took down the bowls when he knew it was almost ready, and Natasha plated up while he rinsed the dirty dishes, both sitting at the counter with spoons in hand. He took a sip and smiled.

“It’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Even better than the memories.” He tapped his head.

“Well I had nicer ingredients to work with.”

“Maybe that’s what you can do now. Be a chef.”

She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“You could do anything though. Study. Make things. Be a ballerina or something.”

“What about you?” she ignored him.

“I stand out a bit more.” He pointed to his arm.

“So do I. My face was all over the news.”

“People forget things like that.”

She smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I guess they do.”

*****

Bruce hunched further over his microscope, vaguely self-conscious of the blond sitting nearby sketching. Steve sighed.

“Don’t worry about me so much. Just do what you gotta do.”

“Sorry. I’m not used to being so...on display.”

“It’s just a sketch for myself, Bruce. No one else is gonna see it.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Okay. I’ll try to relax.”

Clint stuck his head around the lab door. “You seen Tash?”

Steve shook his head. “No, why?”

“I wanna ask her to come on an ice cream run with me.”

“Did you try Jarvis?” Bruce mused, noting down an observation on the thick pad by his hand.

“That’s cheating.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Jarvis, where’s Natasha?”

“With Sergeant Barnes on the roof, sir.”

“Clint, last time I checked she was on the roof.” Steve relayed with a smirk.

“Thanks pal.”

He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs the few flights up, quietly easing the door open. Nat and Bucky sat on matching deck chairs, a newspaper spread over the man’s lap, a book in her hands. They both wore huge sunglasses to deal with the glare of the concrete and glass structures around them. There was a small table next to Natasha with a couple of drinks on it. As Clint watched, she picked up one glass and handed it to Bucky just as the ex-soldier reached a hand up for it. He sipped and turned the page before handing it back. Nat took it smoothly and set it beside hers again, all without speaking or exchanging so much as a glance.

Clint had to stifle the chill up his spine. He’d always felt close to the people he worked with most, their moods and expressions falling in sync after awhile. He could look at Nat across a crowded room and know what she was thinking by the tiniest twitch of her mouth. But the way she and Bucky had been acting since they got back from Oleg’s was just downright eerie. It was almost like a hive mind situation, their bodies accommodating each other without thought. He wondered how long you had to know a person to reach that kind of connection.

“Hey Red.”

“Hawk.” She looked up with a small smile. Bucky nodded an acknowledgment but otherwise didn’t move.

“Want to come find some good gelato with me?”

“Sure. Is Bucky coming?”

He wasn’t sure who that question was directed at, but the way she looked at Clint expectantly implied Tash didn’t need to ask her reading companion if he was interested or not.

“He can do. You up for a trip?”

“Course. Might need to put a jacket on.” He gestured to his arm.

“No probs. We’ll stop by the guest floor on the way past.”

 

Clint waited until Bucky had gone to find a coat before glancing sharply at Nat. “Are you aware how weird this is?”

“How weird what is?”

“You and him, being all inseparable and telepathic. It’s weird.”

She frowned. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda my point. He’s had his memories what, a day? And it’s like you’re twins separated at birth or some shit.”

“Is it a problem?”

“No. I like the guy. It’s just...a little bit creepy.”

Nat snickered. “What are you expecting, the girls from The Shining?”

“I dunno. Watching you two at dinner last night having this whole silent conversation without fucking blinking was sort of awesome and super confusing at the same time.”

She shrugged. “I can’t help it, Clint. We just know each other really well.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Her gaze turned suspicious. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Professionally, yes.”

Bucky hurried back towards the elevator, arm covered and a scarf around his neck. “Ready.”

“You cold, _Winter_ Soldier?” Clint teased.

“Doesn’t mean I like it chilly, Barton.”

“You used to wear that ridiculous huge coat every time we had to venture out into the snow.” Nat snorted, shaking her head.

“Hey, it never inhibited my movement.”

“It came pretty close a few times.”

“I would have stood out too much if I hadn’t worn anything.”

“Whatever you say, wuss.”

“We weren’t all born in the Russian wastelands, Romanova.” He elbowed her.

“Stalingrad isn’t exactly the wilderness!”

“It’s not _not_ wilderness either.” Clint snickered.

“Hey shut it, Iowa boy. Like you can talk about wide open spaces.”

“Speaking of which, this elevator is not.” He shuffled away from Bucky’s looming shoulders.

“Sorry,” the other man tried to cram himself closer to the corner.

“No harm done. Try not to be so buff in future. Between you and Cap I feel like a midget.”

Bucky laughed. “I’ll get on that.”

 

They took Tony’s car again, heading uptown to the smaller, quieter neighbourhoods. Clint didn’t have a specific ice cream place in mind so they just kept driving until they found one that looked nice enough. The archer wondered as they parked and got out whether the others were running the same defence checks he was. It was nice to be out with people who chose their haunts based on escape routes and exposure, rather than having to put up with whatever security nightmare Stark picked.

They went inside looking for all the world like three friends on an afternoon jaunt rather than three incredibly deadly assassins. Bucky positioned himself at a table with a view of the door and Clint bounded over to the freezers, trying to decide what he wanted.

“I’ll have a strawberry ripple in a wafer cone, and one bubblegum in a cup with sprinkles.” Nat said, sorting through her wallet for the cash.

“Bubblegum.” Clint arched a brow.

“He likes it.”

“But _why_?”

“Ask, if you’re feeling brave. I think it started in the ‘80s when everything neon was in.”

“Are you telling me our dear Bucky Barnes is a fashion victim?”

“Fuck no. But for a kid who grew up during the Depression, bubblegum ice cream’s like a fever dream.”

“And for you?” the cashier asked.

“Uh, chunky monkey. Two scoops. With chocolate sprinkles.”

Nat took her order and headed to their table, sliding Bucky’s over as she licked the drips trying to escape her cone.

“Sweet!” he grinned, picking up the tiny pink plastic spoon. He was wearing fingerless gloves that hid everything but the metal tips of his cybernetic arm, and it was the weirdest thing to watch him geek out over the multi-coloured confection with those steely fingers. Clint bounced into the seat next to Bucky where he could see Tash (and the street), chunky monkey in hand.

“Best idea ever? I think so.”

“It’s certainly better than some you’ve had.”

“Do you see this shit?” he pouted at Bucky, “She’s always pickin’ on me.”

“She’s a terror alright.” He smirked.

“Relax, Clint. It could be worse. I could be Stark.”

“I can handle him. You, I feel bad about beating up.”

She laughed. “No you don’t.”

“Well I know better than to give you reasons to retaliate then.”

“I’m sure Tony’s capable of some decent revenge if he felt like it.” Bucky noted.

“Let’s not find out, okay? We are crashing in his pad. His electronically-controlled pad.”

Bucky shuddered. “Deal.”

 

It was a lot of fun. Even with Nat and Bucky having all these experiences he didn’t even know about, let alone share, Clint felt comfortable with them. They were the same kind of people he supposed, careful and realistic about the world but able to loosen up when they weren’t on the job. And they didn’t make him feel left out – Nat would never do that, and Bucky seemed to think they were already old pals. Maybe it was a ‘40s manners thing but it might have been the guy’s war days. Soldiers learned to trust the men beside them quickly given that any one of them might die for the others on the next mission.

And as much as it was a fun outing for all three of them, it also felt like he was watching a date. Which was ridiculous, since at this point the idea of Nat and Bucky dating was pretty redundant. But the sly little grins and jokes and the tiny, tiny hint of a blush he thought he saw on Nat at one point? Yeah, it felt coupley. He also thought it was adorable how they were both ignoring it.

“Shall we head back?” Nat asked when they’d finished.

“You guys go ahead. I think I’ll sniff out a game.”

“What kind?” Bucky asked, brow arching with interest.

“Uh, poker.”

“Yeah? You any good?”

“He’s good because he cheats.” Nat smirked.

“I do not cheat! She’s a filthy liar, Buck. Don’t listen.”

“I usually end up saving his ass when the other players figure it out.”

“Could be fun. Mind if I tag along?”

Clint blinked. Was Bucky really this dense? “I thought you didn’t like to be out of the tower too long.”

“I’ve gotta work at it, right? Or else I’ll turn into some kind of hermit.”

“Uh, sure then. I could always use an accomplice. Nat, you wanna come too?”

“I’ll pass. He can watch your back well enough in my absence.”

Fuck, they were impossible. “Sure?”

“Totally. I’ll take the car for a bit of a joyride and head back. Good luck with the game.”

She got up and skipped out, Clint shaking his head internally as he watched her go.

“So where do we find this game?”

He flicked out his phone with a sigh. “I’ve got some old friends who know a thing or two about it. Give me five minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oleg's comment is 'my dear'.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long, but real life decided to kick me in the arse somethin' fierce. Hope you enjoy.

The game Clint found was dingy, dark and smelt kinda funky. Bucky loved it. It reminded him of the bars in England when they were working with the SSR. They were early, Clint leading him over to the bar to get a drink while they waited for more people to arrive.

“So, how good are you at acting drunk?” he murmured out the corner of his mouth.

Bucky grinned. “Passable. I remember what it was like, you know.”

“Then I might have a plan.”

“God, you’re as incorrigible as Tasha said, aren’t you?”

“Gotta keep myself sharp somehow.”

“Does she really come with to save you from yourself?” he looked Clint askance.

“Sometimes. Usually she lets me get beat up a little to teach me a lesson.”

“It doesn’t seem to stick.”

He beamed. “Nope.”

“You guys seem like good partners.”

Clint shrugged. “I recruited her. We worked pretty closely for awhile until Fury thought she could be trusted. She has that whole crazy idea about owing people, so she’s big on watching my back and stopping me being a total idiot _all_ the time.”

Bucky bit his lip. “I can see how she’d feel she could trust you. You’re a good man.”

“Thanks but I’m really not.”

“Trust me. I’ve met enough bad ones to know the difference. She’s lucky to have you.”

Clint gave him a strange look. “I’m the lucky one. But I wouldn’t say we-”

“Players, take your seats.” The heavy-set guy running things called with a smile.

“To be continued.” Clint threw back the rest of his drink, waving for two more.

But they didn’t get to continue anything because the archer spent the next two hours fleecing everyone at the table (with Bucky’s help). It was hilarious, swaying in his seat and pretending he had to squint to read the cards, catching the glimmer of mischief in Barton’s eyes. Some of the others were getting a bit pissed off but that was fine too; if it came down to a fight at least Bucky would get to properly stretch his muscles.

“Well gents, I think I’m done for the night.” Clint scraped all his winnings towards him, stuffing them into his pockets.

“You better be done for a month or two at least, friend. If you show your face again here too quickly I might not take kindly to it.” The dealer narrowed his gaze.

“That a threat, pal?” Clint smiled cheerily.

“What do you think?”

Bucky held up a hand. “Let’s not get hostile, guys.”

The man turned on him, glowering at the empty table in front of Bucky. “You got any cash left, bub?”

He blinked at the felt blearily. “Uh, doesn’t look like it.”

“Beat it then! Both of you.”

“Here, let me help you there.” Clint hauled him up by his sleeve, Bucky giving a convincing stumble as they headed for the door. As soon as they were out of sight of the club he straightened, speeding up as they ducked into an alley.

“What are the chances they’ll send people after us?”

“Extremely high.” Clint winked.

“We better get a move on then.”

 

They hightailed it back to the tower through a convoluted circling route that should shake off any shadows, though Bucky couldn’t see or hear anyone following them. They chuckled together in the elevator, Clint raking cash out of his jacket.

“Here, I owe you your cut.”

“Thanks.”

“We make a good team.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should be conmen. We’re unemployed, good liars and we can take care of ourselves.”

“Only if we go Robin Hood style and steal from criminals and corporate fat cats.”

“Done.” Bucky laughed.

The doors opened on the guest floor and Clint stepped out. “You comin’?”

“I think I’ll find Steve. He probably feels deprived of my company.”

Barton snorted. “Aw, poor Cap. See you tomorrow then.”

Bucky waved as the doors shut, continuing up to the penthouse. He hoped Steve was alone. He had some questions that he didn’t need anyone else overhearing. Luckily when he got to what was rapidly becoming the common floor, the blond was on the couch throwing popcorn in the air and catching it in his mouth as he watched what looked like Men in Black.

“Steve, you got a sec?”

“Sure Buck,” he put aside the bowl, “What do ya need?”

“I wanted to ask you about Natasha.”

“Uh, okay,” he looked a bit cagey, “Shoot.”

“What’s she to Barton?”

“A friend.”

“Nothing more?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them act like anything else. They work together, watch each other’s backs. That’s it, as far as I know.”

Bucky frowned and Steve raised a brow.

“Why do you ask?”

The brunette looked up guiltily. “No reason.”

“Buck, come on. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“No shit, old man.”

Steve snorted and punched him in the arm. “Seriously. Talk to me.”

Bucky sighed. How did he begin to explain what he felt for Natasha? When they’d worked side by side she’d been his personification of the Motherland: cool, steadfast and sometimes brutal. Now she was different, changed by her time at SHIELD. He liked both Natashas, the different parts of him appreciating her two sides.

But that was the problem, right? She’d changed. Maybe the new Nat didn’t want him the way she used to.

“I don’t know if Nat could be interested in me.”

“But you’re interested in her?”

 

“Yeah. We’ve been partners for decades, and it wasn’t all just killing and sabotage, let me tell you. She’s amazing, sexy, funny, sweet and she can murder a man with her thighs. She’s pretty much my ideal woman.”

“Have you asked Clint? I mean out of all of us, he’d be the one who knows what she’s thinking.”

“Steve, until this conversation I was half sure they were a couple. Why the hell would I ask him?”

“Just checking! Geez.”

“You’ve been working with her for the last couple of years. What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think. She’s not the same person now, is she? With her old memories back.”

Bucky growled in frustration. “Well the Nat you knew – think she could be into me?”

“Not as the Winter Soldier. But as Bucky yeah, maybe. I don’t think she was really in a place to be with anyone though.”

“And now?”

“And now we’re not secret agents or crime fighters or rescuers any more. We’re a bunch of bums camping out at our rich friend’s house. We don’t have to be always on the job.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you just ask her, Buck? You’ve never had trouble with girls before.”

“She’s not an ordinary girl.”

“Guess not.”

“I’m not gonna push it. The Nat I knew before would have run spooked if I got too emotional. I’ll let her come to me if she wants more.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds like a plan. You wanna watch this with me in the meantime?”

“Sure.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Steve sharing his popcorn. Bucky rolled the cricks out of his neck and looked over, voice soft.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Steve didn’t look away from the screen.

“Peggy...”

“Peggy had her own life,” the blond cleared his throat, “I’ve seen her. She was happy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“Yeah but what about you? You deserve someone great, kid.”

“Then I guess I’ll find someone great when it’s right.” he gave a subdued smile.

“Wasn’t there some dame back in Washington? Uh, blonde, had a good aim on her? She was at your apartment.”

“We didn’t exactly spend a lot of time getting to know each other when she was masquerading as my neighbour, and even less once things started blowing up.”

“Still. Bet she wouldn’t say no if you tracked her down for a date.”

Steve half-shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You can’t say you’re busy anymore.”

“Guess not. My schedule’s suddenly wide open.”

*****

“Children, Daddy has an announcement!”

The motley group looked up from their lunch as Tony swept in, a huge smile on his face and his arm around Pepper’s waist. The redhead was blushing fiercely, and it took Nat less than half a second to spot the enormous diamond on her finger.

“The lovely Miss Potts here has had some form of brain aneurysm and agreed to marry me.”

“That’s great!” Steve grinned.

“Congratulations to you both.” Bruce stood, moving to hug Pepper.

“Way to go, Stark. Now get on with it before she changes her mind.” Bucky smirked.

Clint shot the CEO a wink. “You feelin’ broody, Pep? Maybe you and Tony would be looking to expand the family, say...adopt?”

She laughed. “Thank you Clint, but I don’t think I need to encourage Tony to bring in any more strays.”

“Ouch.” He gripped his chest as if struck, but he was chuckling.

“So, in honour of my amazing good luck, we are going out tonight for an impromptu engagement party. I’ve booked out a whole club, there’ll be lots of boring business types, but the booze will be very free and very high quality.”

“Count me in.” Nat raised her orange juice in a salute.

“I’m not sure I’ve got anything to wear.” Steve muttered.

“Ditto. I didn’t pack for special occasions. Shopping trip?” Clint pointed at the captain, “Buck, Bruce, how about you?”

“I’ve got one nice shirt with me, but I might need some better shoes.” The scientist admitted.

“Boys’ day out then,” Tony smiled, “My treat. You ladies can relax until later – Pep, maybe have Jarvis call up some masseuses or something.”

“I think we could handle that.” She winked at Nat.

“If we’re going out I need to put on something decent.” Steve jumped up, heading for the elevator.

“Wait up.” Clint jogged after him.

Pepper took his empty seat, Tony leaning in to kiss the top of her head before turning to Bruce. Natasha nudged her salad with a fork as she studied the other woman.

“So, S.I. will be run by a Stark again.”

“Looks like. Though we haven’t discussed me taking his name yet.”

“Because you will be.” Tony threw over his shoulder.

“I dunno, Potts-Stark has a certain charm to it. Or maybe you could take mine.” She smiled at Nat devilishly.

“Keep dreaming, sweetheart.”

“It would be very progressive of you, Tony. Think of the good press.” Nat bit her cheek mischievously.

“Nope! Don’t go filling her head with your crazy radical ideas while we’re out, Romanov.”

“I lived through the feminist revolution, Stark. What do you expect?”

 

The boys went out and left them to their pampering, Nat providing an attentive ear as Pepper rattled off all her thoughts on the wedding. She might not be one for settling down and white picket fences but Nat understood strategy and resource planning, and Pepper was a gold medal organiser, so by the time they’d finished their mani-pedi-facial-massages they’d pretty much mapped the whole thing out. And if Nat knew Pepper (which she did), the execution would be both flawless and beautiful.

She drifted back downstairs to think about getting ready for the engagement party, looking through the limited clothes she’d brought with her and the one or two things she’d bought on her trip with Tony that might be appropriate. Natasha compared the merits of various dresses, running them against her standard internal checklist. Ease of movement? Concealment for weapons? Easy access for those weapons? Good colour? Attractive enough for her mark?

Not that she had a mark. No, Nat wasn’t looking to pick up anyone – specific or otherwise. She just wanted to look nice, that was all. Why shouldn’t she? It was a big party. Tony and Pepper would remember this night for the rest of their lives, and she was part of that. Part of a...team? Family. It was strange but she was happy for them, and for herself.

In the end she picked a black and red strapless number that hugged her from the chest to her knees, showing off those lethal curves but not the flat knives she had strapped to her thighs. She slid on some nice black pumps and spent half an hour fussing over whether she should curl her hair or not. In the end she tied it up in an off-centre chignon, out of the way and simple but elegant. She looked herself over in the mirror and decided she looked good, pretty without stealing the attention away from the bride-to-be.

When she emerged from her room Bucky and Clint were both already dressed, sitting on the couch playing Mario Kart. They were in suits that looked tailored to fit but still allow motion, and she suspected they were both armed under the fabric. Clint’s was a pale grey with a gorgeous purple shirt that was open at the neck, and Bucky was in black with a dusky red shirt and black skinny tie. He looked good, hair combed back tidily, muscles hidden but hinted at by the sleeves. She had to take a breath to clamp down on her sudden wave of attraction. He looked up and stopped, tongue pressed against the corner of his mouth as he looked her over.

“Nice dress.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, you guys match.” Clint said.

“Guess we do.”

“It’s weird, seeing you all dressed up. You were never one for the undercover work.” Nat smiled, tracing a finger along the edge of Bucky’s lapel.

Clint snorted. “I hope that’s not a euphemism.”

“Don’t worry Barton, I may have forgotten my own name from time to time but I’ve never forgotten how to do that.”

The archer quirked a brow. “Nat would be the better judge of that.”

Bucky looked away quickly and she was wondering if she could kill Clint with just her brain when Steve joined them, dressed in blue on blue.

“We ready to go?”

“Isn’t that up to Tony?” Bucky stabbed a button aggressively and cursed as the blue shell hit him anyway.

“Jarvis?”

“Dr Banner and Miss Potts are already in the lobby, if you’d like to make your way down.”

“Guess that means time out,” Clint paused the game, getting up, “I hope you’re prepared, Barnes. Cos there ain’t no party like a Tony Stark party.”

 

Clint was not exaggerating. When they got to the club there was a red carpet with rope barriers and paparazzi and screaming Avengers fans, and three rows of cops and private security lining the entrance. Steve helped Nat out behind Tony and Pepper, the pair setting off their waiting audience in a sea of screams and cheering. They quickly made their way inside to find the whole place had been decorated with giant entwined T&P motifs, the place packed with men in suits and military uniforms and women in $5000 dresses. They all started clapping as soon as they spotted Tony, raising their glasses with a shout.

“This is...intense.” Bucky raised his brows.

“Try to keep your head up, Sarge.” Clint slapped a hand on his chest, peeling off in pursuit of a waiter carrying a tray of drinks.

“Here we go again.” Steve took a huge breath.

“Wanna get a beer neither of us can drink?” Bruce chuckled nervously.

“Sounds good.”

They headed for the bar, leaving Nat to look up at Bucky. He seemed overwhelmed by the crowd, eyes darting everywhere at once.

“You okay?” she brushed the edge of his sleeve, nothing too jarring but a reminder she was there.

“Yeah. Just – threat evaluation.”

She didn’t tell him it was pointless, since Tony always made Pepper’s security top priority these days. There were army bases probably less well defended than the club. She knew what it was like to never trust anyone’s judgement.“Of course. Maybe we could dance, scope the place out?”

He smirked. “Smooth, Tash.”

“What? You know it’s the best vantage point.”

“I never leave a lady hangin’. Miss?” he offered a hand.

She took it with a smile, satisfied he was loosening up. They made their way down the short flight of stairs to the dance floor, slipping between people until they had a good view of the room. Nat put her hand on Bucky’s shoulder and he closed a hand over her waist, leading her into the steps as they both scanned their surrounds. Nat could see the others up on the level that wrapped all the way around, Bruce and Steve sitting at a table by the balcony railing, Tony and Pepper talking to some acquaintances. There was nobody suspicious, three well-covered exits and no access from the ceiling as far as she could see.

“I think it might be okay.”

“Yeah. Sorry, I overreacted.”

“It’s smart to be careful.”

“Perhaps not too careful though, right?” he smiled ruefully.

“I think it’s a genuine miracle either of us has lasted so long. If being too careful got you through a world war and seventy years of working as the world’s top assassin, I say stick with it.”

“It’s wasn’t just being careful, you know,” he pulled her closer, “It was you. Knowing you had my back.”

Nat hid her face, resting her cheek against his chest as they moved through a dance she knew he’d learned with his sister before he enlisted, a dance he’d probably done with girls named Edith and Betty and Thelma who were long dead, a dance they’d done together on a few rare occasions when he’d needed to get close to his target. But they’d never done it as Natasha and Bucky, and here he was twirling her across the floor and saying she was part of the reason he was still alive. Nat didn’t know what to say.

“We had each other’s. I’m not that much younger than you, as Tony likes to keep reminding me.”

“But you’ve aged better.” He brought their joined hands up to knock against his arm with a metallic clunk.

“You haven’t done too badly yourself.” She smiled.

“Not too badly?” he scoffed, “Please, I’m hot stuff. According to Hawkeye, anyway.”

“He can’t be trusted with those kinds of statements. He’ll tell you he’s a regular Rudolph Valentino if you let him.”

Bucky laughed, and like that the tension was gone. They settled into the rhythm, and Nat let herself get lost in the song.

 

“Excuse me my dear,” a voice said behind her, “You’re the woman from the Senate hearing, aren’t you?”

Nat sighed internally and gave the speaker, a man in a sharp naval dress uniform who looked about thirty, a wry smile.

“That’s me.”

“Agent...Romanov, I think it was.”

“I’m not an agent anymore.”

He smiled. “I suppose not.”

The man looked like he was building up to either ask her about SHIELD or hit on her, both of which had already happened multiple times since she got there. She was about to shut him down early when Clint breezed between them, offering her a champagne flute.

“Drink?”

“Yes please.”

“Who’s this?” Clint arched a brow at the officer.

“A curious fan.”

“Commander Brett Evans.” He extended a hand that Clint pointedly ignored.

“Well Commander, thanks for saying hi but it’s a party, so maybe we can leave the business for another time?”

His tone brokered no argument, and with a last unhappy look at Nat the commander nodded. “Of course. Have a good night, Miss Romanov.”

He wandered off and she sighed. “Thanks. If I have to tell one more military stuffed shirt that we’re not all evil HYDRA Nazis...”

“I know. I’ve been dodgin’ ‘em all evening.”

Natasha leaned against the rail, eyes sweeping the room. They fell on Pepper and Tony slowly swaying in the middle of the floor, so obviously smitten with each other. Pepper was laughing, her head on Tony’s shoulder, and the billionaire was clinging to her like he’d never let go. She was happy for them. She’d do whatever it took to make sure no one disturbed that happiness.

“You okay?” Clint frowned, “Apart from the creeps and the accusing looks.”

“Did you ever want that?” She took a deep sip, eyes still on the couple.

“What?” he followed her gaze, “Marriage? I tried it, remember. Wasn’t for me.”

“Not marriage necessarily, but love.”

“Well yeah, course. Not much room for it with all the travelling though.”

“Yeah.”

He watched her take another sip and grabbed her elbow gently. “What’s up, Ruski? You’re asking me stuff you already know.”

“I’m not sure. Just feel a bit flat, that’s all. Maybe we could spar when we get back to the Tower?”

She looked up to find Clint watching her sceptically. “Sparring.”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Tash, you don’t wanna spar.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

“You should know I of all people would notice. You and Bucky are like reflections in a mirror. You move perfectly in synch, you look at each other at the same moments, you give the same smiles.”

Natasha felt herself flushing. “So?”

“So,” he slid his shoulder against hers, “You’re like yin and yang. Two parts of a whole. You should stop being such a wuss and be with him.”

“What? Clint, who said I want to be with him?”

“You don’t need to say it, Tash. You guys spent years tuned into each other’s micro-expressions and moods. Who else is gonna compare to that? Plus you’re moping in the middle of a kickass party like a lovesick teenager.”

She looked down. “What about us?”

“What us, Tash?” he snorted, “We’re best friends. We’re partners. Maybe we slept together occasionally but we were never really more than that.”

“You mean more to me than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Clint smiled, no trace of sadness or reproach in it. “Except him.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“But you and I aren’t in love, Tash. We’re always gonna be close - you’re like family. But I don’t think we’d exactly work as a couple, do you?”

She made a face. “Not really.”

“Great. So do me a favour and go be honest with Barnes about how you feel.”

“What if he doesn’t want the same thing?”

Clint gave her a piercing look. “Don’t be a moron. That’s my job.”

“Ouch!” she giggled, nudging him.

“Now hurry up, cos if I have to look at that pout another minute I might take you up on the offer to wipe it off your face.”

Tash looked away. Clint had a point. They weren’t the same people they’d been during the years they worked for HYDRA. Those people couldn’t love each other; it was too dangerous, too distracting. But now there was no one to obey, no demands on their time and no programming telling them to be cold and uncaring. Now she and Bucky could be more, and it was terrifying.

Then she saw him by the bar, laughing at something Steve had said, and it stopped being quite so scary.

“Excuse me.”

“Go get ‘im.” Clint raised his glass.

She made her way through the crowd, edging between people until she could touch Bucky’s shoulder. He looked over with a smile, moving to face her.

“Tasha?”

“Hi. Mind if we talk?”

“Course not. I think there’s a quiet spot up on the roof.”

She nodded and walked past him, fighting to keep the nervousness from showing in her posture. It was pointless with him but luckily Bucky was nice enough not to comment as they fought their way to the stairs and then outside. The deck was deserted, lanterns running along all four sides, potted plants and benches creating a sort of mini garden. Bucky took a seat by a corner where they could see the door and brushed his face out of his hair.

“What’s up?”

 

If she didn’t just say it, she would ramble and avoid the topic and never get it out. “I want to be with you.”

He looked her over silently, nodding to himself. “Barton?”

“Clint and I aren’t together. Never have been really.”

“You sure about that?”

“Completely.”

“Then I want to be with you too. I can’t promise you won’t get sick of my tormented dark past shit in the first week, but I’d like to try.”

“We’re in the same boat, Barnes. I’m just as messed up.”

He broke into a smile. “Then I guess we’re perfect for each other.”

She reached out a hand, sweeping it lightly down his sleeve. “It’s funny, when I’m with you it feels so familiar but there’s all these little differences.”

“Like?”

“Like I never knew your real name. Who you were, where you came from.”

“I don't think I’m that Bucky anymore.” He muttered.

“What should I call you then?” she looked down at him, hand on his chest.

“Maybe...James.”

“ _Yasha_.” She smiled.

“I like that.”

Natasha bent down and kissed him, and it was hard to tell this kiss apart from all the others but she managed somehow. She dug her senses into the present and held onto the very real feeling of Bucky wrapping his arms around her back, fingers curling against the base of her skull. She fell into his lap, held fast in his arms. He didn’t treat her like glass, thumb pressing into the base of her skull as his teeth caught on her lip, but his cybernetic arm was as careful as the very first time they’d fucked - in the back of that truck on the Latvian border, blood still under her nails and Bucky’s eyebrow half singed off.

“I think we should get out of here.” She breathed against his cheek.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“We’re both used to being patient.”

“I’m tired of that, Tasha. I don’t wanna wait for anyone any more. I want to take what I want.”

She bit her lip and nodded, climbing off him. Nat went back to the roof door and closed it, jamming one of her hair pins into the lock. There was a wedge of wood on the floor, usually for keeping it open, but she jammed it under the gap as hard as possible before turning back to him.

“Might buy us some privacy, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Then we should hurry.” He smirked.

 

She dropped her purse on the cement, hitching her dress up enough to straddle his legs and wrap herself around him, lips finding each other again. Bucky slid his hands down her waist to her hips and then around to squeeze her ass through the fabric, rocking slightly underneath her. He stood abruptly, lowering her to the rooftop like she weighed nothing, her back hitting the concrete gently as he cradled her head just in case. Natasha twisted herself tighter around him, rubbing her hips up for the faintest hint of friction.

“I need more of you.” She flapped the edges of his jacket in her hands unhappily.

“Whatever you want, darlin’.” He sat up as much as he could with her still attached, sliding the jacket down his arms.

She helped with the buttons, eager to get his shirt open even if it was too risky to take it all the way off. Bucky kept kissing her, trailing his lips over her jaw and down her neck to her collarbone. His teeth dug into the pale ivory of her chest and Natasha groaned, rolling up into the touch. Bucky reached for her dress and she jammed her palms against his shoulders.

“Too public.”

He shrugged. “I’ll have to refresh my memory later then. Though I gotta say, the pictures in my head are pretty damn clear as it is.”

She laughed. “You’ve got ninety odd years of naked women in there. Are you sure you’re thinking of the right one?”

“Definitely.”

Nat rolled her eyes but laughed as he sat back and yanked her dress higher up her legs until it was bunched around her waist. Bucky clasped her to him, his hand cupping her neck as his arm held her chest against his torso. Nat let herself melt into it, running her feet down the back of his legs. She brought them back up, slipping her heels into the waistband of his pants. With a solid push, she got them down around his knees in one go.

“You’re just full of tricks.”

“I’ve had a lot of years to learn them, apparently.”

“Show me your new ones.” His eyes flashed, and her heart tightened in her chest.

She rolled them, fully aware he was letting her take control. His hands curled around her waist, sliding up her ribs reverently, and she could feel the strength in them but it didn’t scare her. She leaned down and kissed him, lips barely touching, her fingers clutching at his shoulders.

“Natalia.” He breathed, the word turning into a growl that made her shiver.

“I feel like I was waiting for you and I didn’t even know.”

She hadn’t meant to say anything and the truth of it shocked her, making Nat pull away. Bucky followed. He sat up, stroking his thumb over her cheek when she tried to avoid his gaze.

“It’s alright, Talia. We can be ourselves together, right? Partners have to have each other’s backs no matter what.”

She nodded, finally looking up. Bucky’s hand moved to her neck, fingers tickling the skin behind her ear, and she smiled.

“I guess now we both get to build a new cover.”

“What do you think, high school sweethearts? I run an auto shop and you clean house?”

She laughed, slapping him in the chest. “As if. Try the other way around, Barnes.”

He cut her off with another kiss, lips crashing together. Nat hung on like it was the end of the world, not even protesting when he shifted so he was back on top. The soldier’s hands hooked in the side of her underwear and dragged it to one side, letting her feel every brush of fabric. Bucky trailed his warm fingers down her chest, idling around the curve of her breasts and then down her sternum to the dip of her navel, hidden as it was. Nat bit her lip, trying not to flinch at the teasing contact. He spread his silver hand across her stomach, not painfully but firm enough to make her stay put, and kept trailing the other fingers down.

 

She did gasp that time as he grazed the wet edges of her folds. Bucky kept his eyes on Nat’s as he caressed her, his stare as serious as if she was his new mission, and Natasha almost couldn’t breathe with the confusion of hormones flooding her system. He looked like a predator but he was Bucky and he was the Winter Soldier and he was neither of them; he was _Yasha_ and he would never, ever hurt her, not unless she wanted it. She pushed down on the adrenaline and focused on the rush of arousal as he circled her button, licking her lips.

“Please, _Yasha_ ,” she shifted her hips as much as she could with him holding her still, “Please.”

He bent his head, eyes still on her, and pressed his tongue against her clit. It wasn’t something they’d done much in the past since there had rarely been time for foreplay, and Natasha liked that. It made her feel like they didn’t have to stick to their old patterns. They could be whoever they wanted, and they could figure it out together. Then Bucky slipped a finger just into her entrance and she shoved all thought away for another time.

Natasha arched her back but there was no moving his hand, the tension rolling out through her limbs instead as Bucky flicked his tongue across her core in great slow sweeps. He slid further inside her, crooking his finger against her slick walls, and she took a shaky breath. The old soldier spread her legs further, testing even the Widow’s flexibility, and gently pried her folds apart until he could drag his tongue down, the slippery muscle replacing his digit in her entrance. Bucky thrust and swirled and Natasha felt like she was falling from a great height with the ground fast approaching.

“ _Mne nuzhno, Yasha_.”

“I’m not done here.” He smirked up at her, eyes bright.

Natasha surged forward and grabbed his face in both hands, forcing her tongue in against his. The taste of her was sweet over his lips, and she felt a twinge between her legs.

“Please.”

“It’s not good for you to get everything you want.”

“Please, _Yasha_. It’s been too long.”

The levity left his expression and Bucky nodded. “It has.”

He swept an arm under her, holding her tight as he raised himself up and stroked a hand along his swollen shaft. He pressed the head against her and Nat bit her lip, watching his face expectantly. Bucky frowned in apparent concentration and took a deep breath, pressing forward as he exhaled. Nat arched in his embrace with a silent moan, legs wrapping around his waist to encourage him, feet pressing against his back insistently. The ex-assassin didn’t hurry though, slowly inching in further with each flick of his hips.

When he was almost fully sheathed Natasha lost her patience and thrust up, swallowing him the rest of the way. She groaned at the feeling of rightness, at the familiar way they fit together, clenching her eyes shut to revel in it for a moment. When she opened them, Bucky’s face almost made her want to run and hide. He looked like a man coming apart, eyes wide and unseeing as he stared at her, mouth agape. His arms shook against her sides, his breath short and shallow and a bit panicky. Nat reached up and caressed his cheek.

“Are you here with me, Buck?”

He swallowed and nodded, and she moved over to twist her fingers in his hair.

“Good. Stay with me.”

She rolled her hips and he started moving, eyes never leaving hers. The expression on anyone else would have made Nat feel like more of a fraud – she didn’t deserve that kind of awe, not after everything she’d done – but from Bucky it felt like a reflection of who she could be. He knew all the bad, dark parts of her past and he didn’t care, he looked at her like that anyway. Surely that meant there was something there to be admired.

Nat used what little leverage she had against his weight to move with him, rocking under the heavy soldier. She ran her hands up the bulging muscles of his real arm, feeling them flex under her fingers as he shifted. She liked the thought of having him at her side, the two of them destroying every obstacle in their path. They’d always been unstoppable in the past; she couldn’t even begin to imagine what they could achieve now with the tech and resources available.

Bucky brought his thumb against her lips, tracing the curves as he cupped her jaw. Nat snapped, biting the tip gently.

“Stay with me.”

“I’m right here.”

*****

Nat woke with a heavy weight over her shoulders. She twisted her head to see a shining metal arm slung over her, Bucky dead to the world on the next pillow. The redhead decided to let him sleep; super stamina or not they’d been up all night and if she wanted a repeat performance, they both needed some recovery time. She tried to wriggle free of his grip without waking him but if she was a master of stealth, Bucky had super senses, and it was only a second before he was wide awake frowning at her.

“Where are you going?”

“Thought I’d check on the others. I left Clint and Tony unsupervised – god knows how the Tower’s still standing.”

“I think Steve’s a good enough nanny to keep the building up.”

“You should stay here and get some more rest.”

Bucky smirked. “Oh yeah? You got plans for me?”

Nat winked. “Something like that.”

He tugged her down into a kiss that almost swayed her about getting up, but eventually Nat broke free with a sigh.

“I’ll only be a little while.”

“Good. We’ve got catching up to do.”

She slipped on her dress for the trip across the hall, Bucky already snoring again by the time she closed the door. The Russian thought about changing and realised going upstairs smelling of sex was just asking Tony to be a cocky prick about it, so she ended up showering completely and washing her hair before throwing on something comfy.

Nat walked into the common room to find Tony blasting hip-hop at almost deafening levels while he took apart the coffee machine on the dining table. Clint was perched on top of a bookcase with his legs crossed, watching curiously and apparently indifferent to the noise.

“Jarvis, can we go down just a notch?” she said.

“Certainly, Miss Romanov.”

The music dropped enough that she could hear herself think and Tony looked up abruptly.

“Hey, don’t mess with my stereo Spidey!”

“I think they could hear it over at the Empire State.”

“They can send any formal complaints to Pepper. I need my tunes. What happened to you last night anyway? I mean I don’t remember much, with all the champagne and crazy engagement sex, but I don’t remember you being in our limo back to the Tower.”

“No, but Bruce was. I think you owe him an apology for the non-consensual voyeurism.” Clint snickered.

“I left with Bucky.” She said calmly, face even.

She looked up at Clint to find him beaming with the smuggest shit-eating grin she had ever seen, ever. He dropped off the edge of the shelves, landing perfectly on his feet.

“So. How was he?”

Tony’s brows rose as he looked between them but Nat just gave her Cheshire cat smile.

“Genetically enhanced in all the right places.”

“Did you and Mr Tall, Dark, Handsome and Murderous finally get it on? Thank Christ for that,” Tony dropped his spanners and headed for the bar, “This calls for a drink and lots of details.”

 

“I don’t kiss and tell, Tony. It’s bad form in my profession.”

“Ex-profession, technically. And I could always just ask Jarvis for the full audio-visual rundown.”

Clint snorted. “I thought you liked your junk where it is, Stark.”

He grinned. “I’m a fan of having it attached, yeah. Don’t worry, Romanov’s far too scary for me to think of sexually – I’m more into Pep’s low-key intimidation than full beatdowns.”

“All I’ll say is it was as good as I remembered. We happy?” she quirked her lips.

“Ecstatic. Does this mean you kids will be making your home under my roof?” Tony asked with a carefully blank face.

Nat shrugged. “Why not? At the moment I just wanna take things one day at a time, and maybe help people. I’ve spent enough time spying and sneaking around.”

“Stark Industries does some great stuff with various charities. I’m sure Pep would love an official Avenger figurehead that’s not me.”

“I might take her up on it.” Nat smiled.

“I’m gonna get this grease off, and then we’re all having celebratory Nat got laid/welcome to the Tower drinks.” He pointed accusingly, heading for his bedroom.

Clint waited until he was out of earshot to eye Nat and laugh. “I’m glad to see you finally got your shit together, Tash.”

“Don’t be so self-satisfied. It wasn’t the hardest persuasion you’ve ever had to pull.”

“No, that was getting you to defect.”

Her smile faded a bit but Clint kept looking at her cheerily.

“Guess you owe me twice now.”

“I’ll pay it back.”

“You know you don’t have to.”

“It’s my code.” She frowned.

“Look around, Nat,” the archer spread his arms, “You’ve just accepted an invitation to live in Stark Tower and do charity work, and you’re in a relationship with an ex-KGB, ex-Howling Commando with a bionic arm. Oh, and you were born before the Great Depression. It’s a brand new world. I don’t think your old code is gonna cut it.”

“The code is everything,” she folded her arms, “It’s what kept me together after you brought me to SHIELD.”

“And now SHIELD’s gone and you’re still here. I think you can make it without the guidelines, Tash.”

Tony walked back in with a fresh shirt and relatively clean hands, though Nat noticed he’d missed a smudge by his elbow. “We ready for this toast? Where are the others? Jarvis, get the super veterans and Brucey up here. We’ve got a lot of fun to get to.”

Nat smiled. “I’m ready for a little fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, friendly Google puts Nat's phrase as 'I need you', and Yasha is the diminutive form of the Russian equivalent of James.


End file.
